


In His Image

by danceswithgary



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character of Color, Drama, Female Character of Color, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-07
Updated: 2007-11-07
Packaged: 2017-10-03 20:52:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 42,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithgary/pseuds/danceswithgary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It should have been a simple investigation. A pair of green eyes in a beautiful face changed everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In His Image

Falling to his knees in the dried grass, the dark-haired young man yanked at the metal collar around his neck, gasping for breath. His attempt at removal failing, his head dropped, green eyes closed in momentary defeat. Broad chest heaving with rasping coughs; he forced himself to his feet once again and stumbled forward blindly. Reaching a cluster of boulders, he was brought up short in an agonized convulsion, veins standing out across his face as well as his torso where his shirt had torn open. He fell heavily and the earth gave way beneath him, several large rocks following him down into the abyss.

 

. . .

 

"Luthor."

The handsome black man watched as his more senior partner reached for a pen to take notes. He waited patiently as the bald man repeated an address in clipped tones and then hung up the desk phone abruptly.

"C'mon, Ross, we've got a body on the Kawatche reservation." The older man reached inside his desk drawer, pulled out his standard-issue revolver and checked it before settling it into his underarm holster. A quick check of the badge in the inner pocket of his suit and he stood, his tall lean body poised for action.

Performing his own check, the younger man frowned. "Any details, Lex?"

Walking towards the elevator, Lex shrugged. "Not really, but obviously it's suspicious enough to bring in the FBI." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a set of keys and tossed them back over his shoulder. "Here, you drive. I was up all night on that stakeout and I want to catch some sleep on the way there."

Catching the key ring just before it hit the floor, Ross grinned. "Gee, Lex, twist my arm. I mean, how come I always have to drive the Porsche?"

Standing inside the open elevator, Lex shook his head and laughed. "Just get in here, Pete, and shut up before I decide we need to take one of the sedans all the way out to Smallville."

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir." Pete flipped Lex a quick salute right before switching it to a single finger. The elevator closed on shared laughter as the two men descended to the garage.

 

. . .

 

Waking with a gasp, Lex sat bolt upright in the passenger seat, blinking in the sunlight. At Pete's concerned look, he shrugged and loosened his tie, flicking open the top button of his shirt and wishing he had taken off his suit jacket before getting into the car. He could feel the back of his shirt clinging unpleasantly where the dream had left him sweating in the old fear. He hadn't had that particular dream for years, but it seemed to have returned with a vengeance since he'd requested the assignment to the Metropolis bureau. He supposed that actually being on the road to the original location of his nightmare was a guarantee that he'd be enjoying interrupted sleep for weeks.

Shoving back the cuff of his shirt, he checked his watch, the watch his mother had given him six months ago on his return to the city where he was raised, the city the Luthors had always considered their own. She knew then she was dying and she'd made sure he understood the significance of the Napoleon coin used for the watch face. Her insistence that she would continue to be part of his life even after death, just as Napoleon's mother had been painted into the emperor's coronation, was supposed to be a comfort. So far, it only recalled the memory of her last pain-filled days, rather than being the desired reminder of happier times with her and Julian, his younger brother. His grief was still fresh though, and he hoped the watch would serve its purpose in the future.

Catching the gesture out of the corner of his eye, Pete flicked a glance to Lex's face before returning his focus to the road. "We should be there in about half an hour, we made good time."

"I'd be disappointed if that wasn't the case." Lex made an effort to lighten the mood in the car. "It would have been a complete waste of this car if you insisted on staying within the speed limit every time you drove it." He relaxed back into the leather seat, his smooth skull balanced on the perfectly positioned headrest. Just the sound of the turbocharged engine soothed him even though he'd relinquished the pleasure of handling it to his partner. A gift to himself on his promotion to Inspector, the silver gray beauty was his pride and joy, only trusted to a privileged few. Pete Ross had earned that trust ten-fold in the last six months, proving to be an able field agent and capable second-in-command whenever Lex was called out to other offices in the state. Knowing Pete would alert him when they approached the site of the investigation, Lex let his eyelids drift shut again for a few more minutes of rest.

As his mind drifted, the memory of fire and pain intruded and he found himself immersed in the past again. Surrounded by green stretching endlessly around and overhead, he ran gasping, crying out for his father. He heard the gruff voice calling his name only to be drowned out by a whistling scream from the sky. Flames erupted, consuming everything in their path, everything including his father. Screaming, fists clenched against his ears, Lex watched as the roiling dark cloud overwhelmed him, frozen in fear.

"Fuck!" This time, when Lex jerked himself awake, the car had stopped and Pete had turned in his seat, frowning, his hand reaching out to touch Lex tentatively on his shoulder. Passing his hand over his head and scowling at the fresh sweat, Lex reached into the glove box for a towel and dried off his hand. Glancing at Pete's worried face, he shrugged. "C'mon. Let's get in there."

"Lex." Pete's low tone stopped Lex before he could open his door. "Are you...?"

Lex pushed down on the door handle and pushed the door open. One foot out on the pavement, he looked back over his shoulder. "I'll be fine." He got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. Turning, he looked over the roof at Pete who was still watching him. Passing his hand over his naked skull one last time, he gave a self-deprecating smile. "On the way back, remind me to tell you how this happened."

One eyebrow raised, Pete nodded. "I'll hold you to that." A chirp and the car doors were locked and the two men walked together toward the dark entrance of the Kawatche caves where a tribal elder waited.

 

. . .

 

"Are you the FBI agents?" The older man standing at the entrance examined the two agents with a stoic look on his weathered face. "I am Professor Joseph Willowbook. I was asked to escort you by the tribal council since I have been researching these caves for years." Flashing their badges, Lex and Pete introduced themselves to the elder and asked why there were no police barriers up. The professor shrugged, unconcerned about the lack of proper police procedure. "I suppose it's because the body has been removed already."

"Removed? Was it taken to the morgue? When?" Pete was taking notes while Lex prowled around the entrance. "Were there any witnesses?"

"My granddaughter Kyla found the body yesterday when she went into the cavern. There had been a rockfall and a new passage opened up. When she entered the new area, she saw that a hole had opened up above and a large pile of rocks had fallen in. It wasn't until she began examining the walls that she noticed the body under the rocks." Crossing his arms and resting them on his chest, the older man shook his head, frowning. "It looked as if the fall probably killed the man; it was over a hundred feet. If not, then it was most likely the rocks that fell afterward that crushed him, at least that's what the medical examiner said."

Lex had returned from his initial inspection and stood to one side, watching Pete conduct the interview. When he heard the suspected cause of death, he exchanged a glance with Pete before asking his own question. "If it was an accidental death, why were we called in?"

Willowbrook shrugged. "You would have to ask the sheriff about that. All I know is I'm supposed to show you where it happened."

Retrieving flashlights from the car, Pete and Lex followed Willowbrook into the dark cave. After several turns through twisted passageways, they arrived at the new opening. Stepping carefully over the rockslide, they entered an open area with a vaulted ceiling, sunlight filtering through from a small opening overhead. Willowbrook pointed to a pile of rocks centered under the opening. "There's where Kyla found the body. She said it looked like he had been dead for a few days, in pretty bad shape. She called the sheriff right away, didn't try to touch anything."

Squatting next to the pile of rocks, Lex noted a darker patch of earth that extended a few feet in each direction. Touching it, he brought his hand back up, rubbing the dirt between his fingers and smelling it. The iron tang and the red-brown color left little doubt that it was blood, supporting the supposition that the death had occurred at that site. Standing, he pointed his flashlight at the walls, his eyes widening when he saw that there were primitive drawings and symbols in several locations.

Willowbrook's eyes followed the beam of the flashlight. For the first time since they had arrived, his face became animated. "My granddaughter was very excited when she saw what the rockfall had exposed." He pointed to the figure of a man who seemed to have something coming out of his eyes. "We have been searching for these for many years. They tell the story of Naman, about the origins of the Kawatche tribe. The elders always claimed it was written in the earth long ago, but no one knew where to find them."

"That's really interesting, Professor Willowbrook, but not what we're here for."

Pete's polite reminder jarred Lex out of his fascinated examination of the symbols and he nodded reluctantly. "I guess we better head for the sheriff's office to find out exactly *why* we were called. Thank you for bringing us through the caves, Professor." He headed for the opening, expecting Pete to follow, when the light from another flashlight signaled a new arrival.

A young woman with long, dark hair stepped through the opening and stood looking at the agents. Willowbrook smiled and walked forward. "Kyla, I wasn't expecting you. I was just going to show these agents back out." He shook his head with a frown. "I'm afraid they've wasted their time, coming all the way out here for nothing."

"It wasn't a waste of time. I was the one that insisted that the sheriff call your office." Reaching over her shoulder, Kyla pulled a manila envelope from her backpack. "I think you'll see why when you look at these photographs." Handing the envelope to Lex, she nodded towards it. "I'm not convinced it was an accident. I think he was murdered, despite what the medical examiner said."

 

. . .

 

Back out in the sunlight, the pictures that Kyla had handed over showed a dark-haired man with green eyes half-closed and glazed over in death. His head and one arm were all that was visible under the jumble of rocks, the dark spot that Lex had noted earlier extending out under his head. Lex looked back up at Kyla, "I don't see any indication..."

Grabbing the photo from Lex, Kyla pointed to the junction of one of the rocks and the head of the unfortunate man. "There. You can just see it." When Lex failed to respond, she tapped the spot impatiently. "He was wearing a metal collar. I've never seen anything like it before, but I can tell you it sliced so far into his neck that I think he bled to death."

Looking at a photo taken at a different angle, Pete raised an objection to her statement. "Just because the collar cut his neck, it doesn't necessarily follow that it was murder. It could have happened as a result of the fall."

"You're in the middle of the Kawatche reservation, miles from *any* town, let alone Metropolis. I'll grant this collar might be a new kink in the city, but what was he doing out here alone, without any identification and dressed in hospital scrubs?" Kyla handed the photo back to Lex and waited for his answer as he shuffled through the rest of the photos quickly.

Placing the photos back into the envelope, Lex nodded. "I think, Ms. Willowbrook, that Agent Ross and I need to have a chat with the sheriff. Now." Jerking his head towards the Porsche, he handed the envelope to Pete, along with the keys. "I'd like you to meet us there, please."

Kyla shouldered her backpack before hugging her grandfather who had been waiting quietly to one side. "I'll see you later, PawPaw." She headed for her truck, calling back over her shoulder, "Follow me, Inspector Luthor. I know a shortcut."

Looking at the dusty 4x4 she was driving, Lex winced at the thought of his Porsche traveling along a rutted dirt road. He got into the car and buckled in, grimacing at Pete who was looking at him in consternation. "Follow her. She knows a fucking shortcut."

 

. . .

 

"Sorry, Lex." Pete turned the car off and sat, shoulders hunched, waiting for the explosion.

Closing his eyes and counting to ten silently, Lex took a deep breath. Feeling calmer, he reached over and clapped Pete on the shoulder. "It's not your fault. I shouldn't have let her get to me and just insisted on taking a road to the station instead of a cattle trail." His mouth quirked, "My mechanic is gonna love this story. At least it isn't bullet holes this time." He opened the door and got out, brushing the dust that had filtered through the vents off his clothes, and straightening his tie.

Kyla was waiting for them at the door and as they approached, she yanked it open and walked in, her stride impatient with any delay. The two agents followed close behind, all three halting at the front desk. Lex and Pete pulled out their badges, asked to speak to the sheriff and were directed down the hall to his office, Kyla following silently. When Lex knocked on the door, a gruff voice instructed them to come in.

"Sheriff Ethan? I'm Inspector Luthor and this is Agent Ross. I understand there was a body brought in from the reservation yesterday?" Lex and Pete shook hands with the sheriff who had risen from his seat behind a government-issue desk. "I'd like to see what you have on it so far."

Frowning, the sheriff looked at his watch. "Well, I'd say you boys are about three hours too late." He walked out from behind the desk and over to a file cabinet in the corner. "I tried calling your office, but they said you were already on your way here." Reaching into the top drawer, the sheriff pulled out a folder and offered it to Lex. "Here's what we have, basically another waste of taxpayer money. We should start charging them every time we have to chase one of them down and return it." When Ethan saw Kyla start to object, he shook his head, raising a hand to calm her down. "I know Kyla, you thought you were doing the right thing, but I told you that it was just an accident and nothing to worry about."

Lex finished flipping through the file and handed to Pete without a word. Pete glanced at the scanty contents and looked up puzzled. "Where's the autopsy report?"

Ethan sighed, a sour look settling in on his face. "You see, that's the thing. We only file autopsy reports on humans."

 

. . .

 

The coffee in the break room was the same dark, bitter brew found in police stations across the country. Lex sipped gingerly, wincing as it mixed with the acid in his empty stomach. He set the Styrofoam cup down on the counter, deciding Pete and Kyla had been smart refusing any. The sheriff swigged heartily from his mug before continuing his explanation, obviously blessed with a cast iron digestive system. "I was pretty sure it was another one of those estees, but we had to go through the motions until the doc could confirm it." Refilling his mug and adding what looked like a quarter-cup of sugar to it, the sheriff took another gulp. "The lab boys came and took it away about a half an hour after Kyla made me call your office." He frowned again. "Biggest waste of time..."

"Estees?" Pete jumped in with the same question Lex was getting ready to pose. "What lab?"

"Estees, that's what we call 'em around here. The lab boys call them S-T-B-C's, short for Short Term Biological Constructs. Pain in the asses is what I'd like to call 'em."

Kyla, who had been pacing impatiently, interrupted. "I found a dead man in the cave. Why are we talking about these estee things?"

The sheriff rolled his eyes at the irate woman. "I've been trying to tell you." He set his mug down and crossed his arms, resting them on his generous stomach. "It wasn't a man. It was an android. One of those goddamn machines that looks damn human, but isn't. Seems like we get one of them wandering around town every few weeks or so and my deputies pick it up and call the lab and they come down and take it away. Nuisances, plain and simple."

"The body looked human in the photographs and there was a lot of blood on the floor of the cave." Lex wasn't completely convinced yet. "Are you positive it was one of these androids?"

"I can get the doc in here if you want." Ethan seemed annoyed that his explanation wasn't accepted without question. "According to him, what 'blood' was left in it tested out non-human, so we turned it over and closed the case, such as it was."

Pete had his notebook out and was recording everything. He looked up and asked another question. "You said a lab came out and picked up the 'body'. What lab was it?"

"Cadmus Labs. They're in Metropolis. It's getting so that we should have them on speed-dial." Pushing away from the counter he'd been leaning on, Ethan made it clear that as far as he was concerned, it was the end of the discussion. "Stop by the front desk if you want and Betty'll give the address and phone number." He offered his hand in a polite dismissal. "Again, sorry you came all this way for nothing."

Frustrated, Kyla left the break room and stomped down the hall, her angry mutters floating back to the three men. Pete and Lex shook the sheriff's hand and said goodbye before they walked out after Kyla, the details about Cadmus Labs duly noted by Pete.

Kyla was waiting outside and descended on them immediately. "You're not just going to walk away from this, are you?"

Lex shrugged. "According to the sheriff, there's nothing to investigate."

Arms flung wide, Kyla shouted, "I saw that man! He was dead! And he *was* a man, not a machine!" Her fists clenched in impotent rage. "I can't believe this! It's a cover-up!"

Stepping forward, Pete attempted to calm her down. "We'll check out the lab and let you know what we find out. Will that satisfy you?" He looked at Lex, his eyes asking Lex to back him up.

"Yeah, we can check it out." Passing a hand over his head, Lex rubbed the tightening muscles in his neck, uncomfortable with the woman's anger. "I'm kind of interested in finding out more about these biological constructs anyway."

Calming, now that it seemed like her protests were no longer being ignored, Kyla nodded. "All right, I'll wait to hear from you." She picked up her backpack that had been dropped carelessly to the ground. "My name and number are in the envelope with the photos." Turning, she strode away, her back straight and long dark hair swinging.

Pete looked sideways at Lex and grinned. "She's something, isn't she?"

"Just your type, Pete. Loud and proud." Lex chuckled. "You just want another chance to talk to her, that's why you agreed to follow up on the lab."

"Don't you think it's worth checking out?"

Lex walked over the car and waited for Pete to unlock the doors. "Actually, I do. For some reason the name sounds familiar." Opening the door, he took off his coat and tie, placing them on the back seat before sitting down in the passenger seat again. "Home, James."

Shaking his head, Pete slid behind the wheel. "You are getting so spoiled, Lex."

Eyes already closed, Lex's grin was lazy. "Hell, you've already trashed the suspension today. You may as well finish the job before I hand it over to Hank for an overhaul."

Pete didn't bother to reply, just pulled out of the parking lot leaving just enough rubber behind to make it clear what he thought about that remark.

 

. . .

 

"Hey, I'm hungry. Why don't we stop for something to eat before we leave Smallville?" Pete had seen Lex wince and reach for the antacids he kept in the glove box and knew that he most likely hadn't eaten yet that day. In the six months he'd been working with him, Pete had learned that Lex tended to become obsessed with cases and forget about basic human needs like food and sleep. He'd also learned that he could get Lex to slow down if he claimed to be the one who was hungry or tired, something Lex wouldn't do until he was ready to pass out.

Crunching down on the chalky tablet, Lex shrugged, "Sure, that sounds like a good idea. Any idea where we should go?"

"Well, it's been years since we moved away, so I really don't..."

"Wait, you used to live here?" Lex's obvious double-take left Pete laughing.

"Yeah. Back before Smallville became 'The Meteor Capital of the World', it was 'The Creamed Corn Capital'. My family owned the factory at the edge of town." Pete glanced at Lex, who was looking through the windshield as if he were seeing ghosts. "After my dad sold it, we moved to Metropolis...Lex, are you okay?"

Jumping when Pete touched his shoulder, Lex shuddered and then took a deep breath. "Sure, I'm fine. It was just...," The pale hand that skimmed the top of his skull was shaking. "I said I'd tell you about this, didn't I?" Loosening another button on his shirt, he fumbled at his cuffs, finally opening them and folding them back, exposing his wiry forearms. "I was here the day the meteors fell. It was the same day...my father died."

 

. . .

 

"I don't really remember much about that day." Pete and Lex had placed their order and were sitting in a booth in the diner that Pete had found on Main Street. When he'd heard the distress in Lex's voice, Pete had suggested Lex wait until after they'd stopped, so that Pete could pay attention to the road. Now they were both looking out the window at a fairly busy intersection while waiting for their burgers and fries to arrive. "We'd had flown out to look at some property my father was interested in. While he was busy talking to some men, probably the owners, I wandered out into a corn field." Lex wiped his sweating palms off on a flimsy napkin, shredding it in the process. "The rest is pretty much a blur of images that make it pretty tough to sleep sometimes."

"So, your dad?"

"Yeah, they told me it was instantaneous, that he wouldn't have felt a thing. I guess he was looking for me when one of the meteors came right down on him. Not much left." Lex's head was down, his eyes focused on the patterns he was drawing on the speckled formica table top. "I woke up in a hospital, minus my hair."

Pete gave a low whistle. "Man, that had to suck. I'm sorry." He reached out to grasp Lex's forearm, giving it a quick squeeze and letting go. "I thought maybe it was from chemo. It didn't look like you shaved, but I didn't want to ask." He frowned. "How old were you? You never told me your age..."

Lex looked up and made an effort to smile. "Guess it never came up. I just turned thirty-one." A more genuine smile reached his eyes. "My younger brother is twenty-five. He was only three when it happened, so he claims he doesn't remember my red hair. He was lucky; he ended up with blonde curls while I was blessed with a color most clowns would envy." The arrival of their meal interrupted him. Sitting back, Lex let the waitress set his plate down and ask him if there was anything else he needed. Thanking her, he declined a second cup of coffee and began to eat, slowly at first, then with a real hunger. All conversation was abandoned until his plate was empty and he looked up to see Pete grinning at him. "What?"

"Just sitting here wondering if you'd ever eat if I didn't drag you into a restaurant every now and then. You're a bag of bones, Lex. How you manage not to get sick..."

"I'm perfectly healthy, I'm just all muscle."

"Right, tell me another one. Remember, I've seen you in the gym when we're working out."

Lex shrugged, deciding not to pursue the argument. "I don't get sick, never have since then. I guess it was worth losing my hair." Throwing several bills down to cover the check, he stood up. "Let's get back on the road. We've got just enough time to visit Cadmus Labs before we call it a day, if you can manage not to drive like a little old lady." He ducked, laughing, as Pete sprang up out of his seat and pretended to throw a punch.

"Little old lady. Hunh. Good thing your hair's already gone because it would be white after I break every speed limit between here and Metropolis."

"Yeah, yeah. you talk a good game..." The two men continued their good-natured bantering all the way out to the car, the shadow of the past temporarily banished in the bright sunlight.

 

. . .

 

"I'm Inspector Luther, and this is Agent Ross. We're here to speak to the director, a Dr. Garner." Lex and Pete showed their badges to the guard at the front desk, who nodded and called the director's office. A few minutes later, a dark-haired man, who looked to be in his late thirties, exited the elevator and headed in their direction. He was wearing a white lab coat, left unbuttoned, revealing well-fitted clothing by a designer Lex recognized.

"Inspector Luthor. Agent Ross." The two FBI agents were greeted with a cool nod, no handshake offered. "I'm Dr. Garner. How can I help you?"

Lex nodded to Pete, giving him a chance to start. "We'd like to ask a few questions about a body picked up by your people today in Smallville. We understand Cadmus Labs claims it wasn't human and that Cadmus owned it."

Looking around the lobby, Dr. Garner seemed to come to a decision. "Why don't we go to my office, gentlemen, and I'll see if I can answer your questions there." Waving the guard over, the director instructed him to sign the agents in and assign them temporary badges. That completed, the director lead them to the elevator.

The ride up was silent, as was the walk to the well-appointed office. Once the door was closed behind them, and they had all taken seats, Dr. Garner began. "I'm sorry for the delay, Inspector Luthor, but you understand the security protocols. If you'd called ahead, we would have made sure your access badge was ready and waiting." Reaching into his desk, he pulled out a sheet of paper that he slid in front of Pete. "Agent Ross, I'll have to ask you to sign this confidentiality agreement before we proceed. We'll be discussing highly-classified and proprietary information."

Pete picked up the form to read it, leaving Lex looking at the director in puzzlement. "Why does he need to sign this? What about me?"

Dr. Garner seemed nonplussed at the question. "I understand you're here in an official capacity, but why would I have you sign a non-disclosure agreement, Inspector?"

"Because Agent Ross is not the only one asking questions here, *Doctor*." Lex was losing his patience, rapidly.

"I'm afraid I don't understand the difficulty, Inspector." Dr. Garner shook his head in bewilderment.

"After all, you *own* Cadmus Labs."

 

. . .

 

"Queen to Kings Rook 4. Checkmate." The tall figure standing at the window did not turn back to make his final move on the chessboard, knowing his opponent would recognize his defeat without needing the evidence. "Do you wish to play again, Father?"

A small clicking sound preceded mechanical tones, the phrasing short and concise. "No, I am tired. I will sleep."

Leaving his station, the young man approached the hospital bed, moved the chessboard back against the wall and re-positioned the mirror that had reflected the board and pieces back to the bed's occupant. Checking the many tubes and hoses that sustained a body so cruelly injured, he adjusted several before smoothing back thin white hair and placing a gentle kiss on an age-furrowed brow. "Sleep well, Father. I'll stay for a while longer in case you decide you need anything else." Smiling fondly, he watched the beloved eyes close before returning to his former position at the window, looking out over the city as the street lights took over the duties of the setting sun.

Bringing his gaze inward and stepping back, he regarded his reflection against the darkening sky, the cold sterile lights overhead doing nothing to warm his features. His hand came up to trace the sharp-cut lines of cheek and chin, eyes hooded and dark under black curls that brushed his shoulders, skin translucent, as pale as the moon. The face was deceptively serene, no sign of the concern and dismay he hid carefully every day as his father grew weaker. He knew that he would have to leave his gilded cage soon, but he delayed, unwilling to depart while the man who had sheltered him for over twenty years still lived.

Glancing over his shoulder to confirm his charge still slept, he began to pace, shoulders slightly rounded as he thrust his large hands in his pockets, head down and occupied with memory. He'd forgotten nothing, remembered everything, everything that had happened since he had arrived on this planet amidst a fiery rain of meteors. Remembered, and knew that on his father's death, his life would be forfeit, handed over to those who saw him as nothing but a resource to be exploited for personal gain.

Pausing, he stood at the foot of the bed that held the one that kept him safe and remembered the day they had met, when they had seen each other for the first time. Not the first human, not even the second or third, that honor belonged to three he had never seen again after that long day of fire. They were the beginning, for he knew nothing of his origins, about his people, his family, or his world. Nothing.

The first was a boy, hurt and shaking in the middle of smoldering green vegetation, his beautiful red hair fallen and dispersing on the wind. The boy had needed help and he had returned to his ship for his blanket. Rolling the boy onto the red fabric, tucking his key into torn and burnt clothing, he had been able to drag the shaking boy until he reached a vehicle overturned on the side of a road. A man and a woman were emerging, stunned but unhurt. The woman had beautiful red hair also, and he was sure the injured boy had belonged to them, the woman and the blond man with the kind blue eyes. He had known they would care for him. He'd made sure the key was still safe in the boy's clothing before returning to his ship, remembering that he had left it open and understanding that he needed to conceal it quickly. He never saw the man, woman or boy again.

The men who surrounded him when he returned to the ship did not hurt him, but he was forced to enter a truck and he had been unable to see where they were taking him and his ship from or where they were headed. He'd seen or heard nothing he recognized until the back of the truck opened. He stepped out and looked up at the open sky. It was the last time he'd been outside a building, the start of twenty-two years of confinement behind glass and stone.

 

. . .

 

"I'm afraid the badly-damaged unit that we retrieved today has already been disposed of, Inspector, but if you like I can give you a tour of the facility since you don't seem aware of what we are doing here as a subsidiary of LuthorCorp. If Agent Ross will just..."

Dr. Garner's obsequious manner grated on Lex. It was bad enough that the reason Cadmus Labs was familiar would most likely be found buried in some prospectus he'd casually tossed in the fireplace after glancing through it. Having some scientist pretend to fawn over him, while getting in a few snide digs at his ignorance of his family's holdings, was enough to make Lex actually consider attending the next board meeting. Only the thought of Julian's unholy glee at the return of the prodigal son kept him from calling his younger brother and demanding that he join them for the proposed tour. Standing abruptly, Lex grabbed the piece of paper from Pete and crumpled it before dropping on the director's desk. "Since I own this facility, I'll decide whether or not Agent Ross is allowed entry without signing any quasi-legal bullshit." Gesturing to Pete to follow, Lex strode to the door and flung it open. "I trust I've made that decision crystal-clear, Dr. Garner?"

 

. . .

 

"The first phase of the construct process takes place on this level." Dr. Garner's sentences were clipped, his disgruntlement at being overruled by his employer apparent in his attitude. "The blanks are matured here before being transferred to the training level."

The ride down in the secured elevator had been silent, Lex lost in memory, Pete reluctant to disturb him with questions. Now that the tour had begun, Pete no longer felt constrained. "Why are they called Short Term Biological Constructs?"

Dr Garner turned and surveyed the FBI agent, looking to Lex for direction before answering Pete's question.

His stoic face revealing nothing of the thoughts racing through his brain, Lex raised one sardonic eyebrow. "Just consider any question from Agent Ross as coming from me, Dr. Garner."

Nodding, the director began to explain. "Despite their human appearance, the biological constructs produced here at Cadmus Labs have no human DNA. They are grown from artificially created genetic material that has been designed to mimic the human form, with enhancements." Dr. Garner pushed through a set of swinging doors, leading them into an eerily lit corridor, one side consisting of a glass panel looking into a lab containing multiple large canisters made of some clear material and metal. "They are fully matured in 60 days, at which point they are ready for imprinting before being placed in their assigned slots."

As Pete and Lex walked along the corridor behind Dr. Garner, they could see into the canisters that were being tended to by white-coated technicians. They seemed to hold human bodies of varying ages, yet they all had the same features and jet black hair. Pete stopped in front of one and touched the glass that separated them from the busy lab, frowning. "They really look human."

"They aren't," Dr. Garner snapped. "If you withdrew circulatory fluid from them and tested it, there would be no match against human DNA." As Pete turned to face him, the doctor sneered. "That's why we have no difficulty retrieving any units that happen to wander away. They can't be shown to be anything but what they are; non-human temporary resources in high-risk professions or locations."

Lex stepped forward, forcing Dr. Garner to retreat a step and compose his face. "High-risk professions? Give me an example."

"I can give you several. The highest rate of injury for all professions is in the field of nursing. Closely following are firefighters, miners and forestry workers. The constructs can be imprinted to handle any of these jobs with low failure rates and substantial savings in insurance, medical costs and financial settlements for the companies choosing to use them in place of humans." Dr. Garner turned and began walking back to the elevator, clearly expecting the other two men to follow. "I can show you the advantages more easily on the next level, where the imprinting takes place."

Entering the elevator behind the director, Pete and Lex exchanged glances, Lex nodding to Pete's unvoiced question. Pulling his notebook from his pocket, Pete flipped it open to write down some of his observations before asking Dr. Garner, "I noticed you didn't mention police or military as one of the high-risk professions. Is there a reason?"

Dr. Garner made a disgusted sound as he exited the elevator into a brightly-lit corridor. "We are perfectly capable of imprinting the blanks for those positions. Unfortunately, there is opposition in certain segments of the government that seems to think that allowing non-humans to injure or kill humans is a bad idea. As a result, we haven't been able to obtain the contracts – yet." The choking sound behind him didn't slow Dr. Garner at all, as he advanced toward a set of doors. "The fools just need to be shown the advantages."

As they stepped through the doors, Pete and Lex came to a halt, staring open-mouthed at the sight of dozens of men with the same face performing the same actions in unison. Dr. Garner's smirk was back in full force as he looked between the two men and the constructs. "As you can see, the constructs can move much more quickly than a human. They're as strong as ten men and require no food as long as they are exposed to UV radiation for four hours a day. They are resistant to injury and since they can't be affected by human diseases or toxins, they are perfectly suited for working with highly infectious or toxic wastes."

"Why were they made to look so human?" Lex couldn't look away from the faces of the constructs, green eyes, chiseled features, perfect skin, wavy black hair, each of them the envy of any male outside of the modeling profession. "Why not just make them look like...a robot?"

"Studies showed that the more human the features, the better they were able to interface with humans. Non-human characteristics in a humanoid form made humans subliminally uncomfortable. Other shapes were considered during design but cost factors favored using the human shape to allow use of existing human tools and clothing." Dr. Garner rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. "I think you've seen everything. I hope that you're satisfied with the answers to your questions?"

Still watching the precise, rapid movements of the army of constructs, Lex nodded absently. Pete began to close his notebook, stopping to look up at Dr. Garner. "Wait, short term. They're called that because you build them so quickly?"

Dr. Garner's bark of laughter brought Lex's head around. "No. They're short term because they're designed to cease functioning 36 months after they are brought to maturity. We bring them back here when they start to fail at 32 months and use them internally before destroying them. Built-in obsolescence, gentlemen, and Cadmus Labs is the only production facility worldwide. The technologies developed and used for this process have made LuthorCorp the fastest growing company in the world."

 

. . .

 

The dark room was silent except for the crackling of the fire and the soft clink of the ice in Lex's glass. Staring into the flames, he sat deep in his leather armchair appreciating the heat, the cold stone of the mansion never truly warm enough for him, despite the season. He let his head drop back, his eyes half-closed as he reviewed the day's events. Somewhere in the middle of a murder that wasn't, men that weren't men and an ill-timed reminder of his past was a hint of something else, a memory that danced along the edges, taunting him.

The drive back to the garage where Pete had left his car had been uncomfortably silent. Lex had missed the easy banter with Pete, the first man he'd felt comfortable with since he'd left Bruce Wayne and Excelsior behind for Princeton. He feared his first tentative steps toward the kind of friendship he'd craved all of his life were in vain, his chance destroyed once again by the revelation of who Lex Luthor really was in Metropolis. He drained the remainder of his scotch, tempted to ignore his self-imposed limit of a single drink per day. Shaking his head at his weakness, he set the empty glass down on the table beside him and stood, stretching out muscles that had been inactive for too long that day.

The phone on the desk behind him beckoned, the hunger for the sound of a friendly voice gnawing at his center. He turned away from temptation, knowing that he'd lost one lifeline that day and fearing the second would fall victim to a confrontation he dreaded. Sleep would be a better choice, if he could manage to silence his doubts, so he headed for his lonely bedroom upstairs, hoping for the best.

He undressed slowly, methodically, hanging his suit up neatly, placing the rest of his clothing in the hamper and leaving all evidence he existed behind closed doors and tidy drawers. Washing his face and brushing his teeth were both managed without facing himself in the mirror that extended across the dual sinks in his private bathroom. He didn't want to look at what Pete had finally seen today, the face of Alexander Joseph Luthor, one of the heirs to the Luthor fortune, one of the owners of LuthorCorp.

Lying on his Egyptian cotton sheets in the dark, Lex closed his eyes hoping to banish his thoughts long enough to get a few hours of sleep. Instead, the meeting with that slimy bastard Garner replayed in his head, the barely-suppressed sneer at Lex's ignorance of his connection to Cadmus Labs galling. The irony was that he'd not wanted to join, be part of LuthorCorp from the very beginning, didn't covet the money at his disposal even though he did take advantage of it at times, his designer clothing and car perfect examples. Living in comfortable apartments in the cities he'd been assigned to, he had few possessions, was accustomed to moving somewhere new every year or so. That had changed this time, his mother asking that he move back in temporarily, to take his time finding a new apartment even though he didn't care for the ostentatious display of wealth Lillian Luthor surrounded herself with. Yet here he was, still in the same room he'd had since he was a boy. He'd made no move to relinquish the mansion after his mother died, inertia keeping him in place, tethered to lonely spaces. Julian hadn't wanted the place they'd grown up in, preferring the penthouse on the top floor of the LuthorCorp Tower, believing it was more fitting for his role as President and CEO of the family business Lex had turned his back on.

Julian had always been the better choice to carry on, to take over the business, despite his mother's constant attempts to pull Lex back in, to convince him to take his rightful place as the eldest Luthor son. Lex had resisted, his course set early on after being kidnapped the year after his father died. The kidnappers had chosen their target badly. Lillian had been fierce in her rejection of the demand for ten million dollars and the kidnappers had been forced to decide whether to release Lex or to repeat the demand with evidence that they were serious. Fortunately, the FBI had been able to profile and identify the kidnappers, and then rescue Lex before any permanent damage had been done. No permanent damage, that is, to anything but his view of the world he was being groomed to rule.

Lex had been fascinated by the FBI team's intelligence and dedication. He devoured books on criminology and police procedure, questioned his bodyguard at length about his experiences as an officer in the military police and finally concluded that was what he wanted to do with his life. Obtaining his law degree first had kept his mother at bay; her undimmed hope that he would ultimately decide to join the company finally quenched when the FBI recruited him while he was still at Princeton. He'd entered training at Quantico the week after graduation.

A superior trainee, Lex had been assigned all over the country, each office adding to the breadth of his knowledge until he made Inspector and earned his choice of assignments. His mother's failing heart had made the Metropolis bureau the logical selection, a concession to Lillian after the years of refusing to bow to her wishes. Now, after earning the respect of the other agents, he faced isolation, an unwanted distance imposed by wealth and privilege. Lex could only hope he would be able to explain to Pete why he had concealed his connections to LuthorCorp and that he had no desire to pick up the reins dropped by Lillian. Grimacing in the dark, Lex reasoned that moving out of the mansion was a good first step.

Lex knew divesting himself of all of his LuthorCorp holdings would be much more difficult. He had never taken the time to understand exactly what he owned, what he was responsible for even in absentia. Cadmus Labs was just a long-delayed wakeup call. Seeing what Luthor money had created had left Lex feeling slightly ill, a feeling he thought he saw echoed in Pete's face as they'd watched the doomed STBC's. Ultimately, he was responsible for the body found on the reservation, responsible for Kyla Willowbrook's distress at finding that body, the construct.

Responsible or not, Lex was tempted to let Pete deliver the news that the murder, wasn't. Pete had thought Kyla was attractive and would probably appreciate the chance to spend some more time with her. She had been so passionate, handing them the pictures she'd taken and pointing out what she'd thought was wrong. Thinking about the photos reminded Lex of the niggling feeling he'd missed something, something buried in those photos.

Resigning himself to the fact that he would be unable to sleep until he'd found the missing piece, he got up and padded downstairs barefoot, shivering a little in the chilly halls since he was only wearing his pajama bottoms and had left his robe behind. Opening the safe he used to hold any case files he brought home with him, he pulled out the envelope and spread the photos out on his desk. He held each one under the light from his desk lamp, searching carefully for whatever it was that had disturbed him.

He found what he was looking for in the next to the last photo. Kyla had backed up for the shot so that the entire rockfall with the body underneath was visible. That wasn't all. The flash had illuminated the walls of the cave and the symbols he had seen but dismissed. Staring at them, he tried to recall where he had seen something similar. Tracing one symbol in particular with his finger, it suddenly came to him and he stilled, frozen in memory.

Carrying the photo with him, ignoring the others still scattered across his desk, Lex returned to his room. Switching on a light, he opened the bottom drawer of one of his dressers and pulled out a small, oddly heavy box. He sat on the rug and opened it, the memory of the day his mother had given it to him soothing his agitation. Reaching inside, he pulled out a much-folded envelope and opened it, tipping it over and allowing an object to fall out onto his palm. The octagon felt right in his hand, felt like it belonged, the metal warming immediately, shimmering under the light. He held it next to the photo and then nodded. He had been right. He looked at the envelope lying in the box, not needing to pick it up again. He knew the envelope held a note written by Martha Kent and their return address, in Smallville, where his nightmares began.

 

. . .

 

"Comfortable?"

Knowing the question was by rote and that any response in the negative was meaningless, the young man simply nodded and closed his green eyes, settling his head between the padded clamps. Both arms had already been strapped down on the specialized chair to ensure the needles used for the transfer would not work loose or cause tissue damage during the six hours it took to extract, filter and replace the entire contents of his circulatory system. Years of experience had taught him that his mind was the best place to retreat into, that no recorded music or movie could surpass his total recall as he entertained and rejected his choices. He finally settled on the Latin translation of 'The Odyssey', the annals of the unlucky voyager appealing to him that day. He visualized the weighty words and let them flow unvoiced, allowing the steady internal cadence to distract him from the steady pulling at his veins and the sucking purr of the machinery.

While one segment of his brain was pleasantly occupied with the ancient work, another worried at the problem of his father's failing health. Each day, he lost more strength and slept more often, the machines he was attached to barely sustaining his precious life. Still, despite his father's knowledge that his death was imminent, he had consistently refused to discuss any of the provisions made for his son, left in a wait state. In his worst nightmare, he was escorted away to a lesser prison, a laboratory, and the vivisection that had been kept at bay by his father's orders would finally take place.

He rarely let himself hope for release, for an escape into a world he knew only from the books and movies carefully selected to hide any useful knowledge of the world outside. His caretakers had been forbidden to speak to him beyond basic commands or information, his father had been his only teacher. He'd understood that was one of the conditions that kept him in these surroundings, that he remain handicapped, ignorant, without the means to function successfully outside the few rooms he had grown up in.

He'd grasped from his reading that he would need a medium of exchange, some sort of money, and transportation, but beyond that, he did not have enough experience to be able to formulate a useful plan. Nonetheless, he had no other choice but to try, even if it was for just the few days he could expect to live away from the machine that was currently filtering out the poisons that would ultimately kill him. That was the best he could hope for, a few days of freedom before death, for some time spent in the sun, the sun he'd only felt on his skin the day he arrived, and never again.

 

. . .

 

The ID that flashed on his cell phone's display made Lex grin, his voice reflecting his pleasure as he answered. "Julian! Are you back?"

A chuckle preceded his younger brother's reply. "Got back in late yesterday. God, it felt good to sleep in my own bed for a change."

"You're the one who thought he needed to make some new connections in Korea, or was it Thailand?"

"At least one of us is trying to keep LuthorCorp in the front of the pack. Speaking of which, what's this I hear about you showing up for a tour? Finally showing an interest?"

Lex thought he detected an edge underneath Julian's mocking words, but decided he'd been mistaken when Julian cheerfully issued an invitation to meet him for dinner that evening. "That sounds great, Julian. I'll meet you at Guliani's at eight. Later." Hanging up, Lex frowned at the phone in his hand. He wasn't sure why he hadn't said anything to Julian about returning to Cadmus Labs. He supposed he was postponing a confrontation as long as possible, wanting as much information as he could gather before discussing what was happening there, under the auspices of LuthorCorp.

"Whoever they are, I'm sure their ears are burning, the way you're scowling at that phone." Pete's good-natured teasing brought Lex's head up and around, a relieved smile replacing the frown as he saw no recriminations in the handsome face peering over his shoulder. "What's on the agenda for today and more importantly, do I get to drive again?"

Snorting, Lex pushed back from his desk and stood, forcing Pete to step back out of the way. "I always knew you only liked me for the car."

"Well yeah, I mean I'm not really into the whole bald thing you know, let alone the part where you're a guy." Pete rolled his eyes in mock exasperation, prompting a full-bellied laugh from Lex.

"C'mon, you unrepentant heterosexual. Let's go get some decent coffee and I'll fill you in." Lex hoped Pete's good humor wouldn't evaporate when he heard what Lex planned to do next.

 

. . .

 

"Why a leave of absence?" The look of bafflement crossed Pete's face when Lex started explaining and he'd interrupted Lex almost immediately. "Doesn't it make sense to use the Bureau's resources?"

Lex sighed and looked down into his coffee before answering. "I don't feel right doing that, Pete. I know it's my company and if I want to open it up for scrutiny, it's my choice." He swirled the cup on the table before lifting it to his lips to finish. "The thing is, it's my brother's company too and it would be an abuse of powers to have the Bureau investigating when there are no grounds for suspicion." He looked up and into Pete's eyes. "We'd never do it that way if it were any other business, a business not owned by Luthors."

Lex was sure he detected a blush under Pete's dark skin as the other man ducked his head in chagrin. "God, you're right, Lex. I'm an idiot."

"Hey, it's OK." Lex waited for Pete to look back at him before continuing. "It bothered me too, yesterday. I didn't get much sleep last night thinking about them."

Pete frowned, his brows crinkled in concern. "It's just... I still don't believe that they're not somehow human, that maybe they're clones or something, something that's not supposed to be happening. And that Garner..."

"Uh-hunh."

"He is one seriously creepy dude." Pete's shiver was obvious. "Lex, man...if they *are* human in any way...that's slavery."

Lex nodded, his face grim. "Yeah. Slavery...and maybe something like...genocide."

. . .

 

Lex followed the STBC to an isolated office where he could review the information he'd requested on Cadmus Labs' projects in private. He'd been surprised when Dr. Garner had summoned the construct to his office and directed it to supply Lex with any information he asked for, immediately.

"I thought they were used for hazardous jobs?" Lex had looked between Garner and the STBC that stood quietly by the door, dressed in a short-sleeved coverall. It was looking straight ahead with no indication it was paying attention to their conversation.

"Ah yes. That. I did tell you we brought them back in for the last few months before disposal. We use them for low-level positions like janitorial staff or file clerks, jobs that won't suffer if they should happen to cease to function unexpectedly." Dr. Garner's voice had held the same barely concealed impatience that had annoyed Lex the previous day, leaving him resolved that if nothing else, he would find a way to replace the man before his investigation was complete.

Now, Lex shrugged out of his suit jacket and hung it on the back of his chair before looking at the construct that awaited instructions. Uncertain about how to proceed, he rubbed his hands together before smiling tentatively at the construct. "Before we start, can you show me where the restroom is located? Oh, and I would like a cup of coffee, please. Black."

Nodding, the construct turned and walked back out into the hallway and pointed to the left before walking in the opposite direction. Lex shrugged and went in the direction indicated, finding the requested facilities two doors down, on the right. On his return, he found the construct waiting, the requested cup of coffee sitting on the desk. "Good. Thanks." Lex sat down behind the desk and grabbed the cup, blowing on it before sipping. "Let's start with the initial prospectus for the Short Term Biological Construct project and the test plans. Oh, and I'll want the development workflow." Lex frowned as he looked at the construct standing in front of the desk. "Can you find those and bring them to me?" The construct nodded and left without a word and Lex sat back in his borrowed chair and wondered what he had just let himself in for and how badly he was going to regret it.

 

. . .

 

Slapping the latest folder closed, Lex threw it on top of the pile waiting to be taken back to the file room. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he closed his eyes for a moment, opening them when he heard a slight noise. The construct had returned with another set of files and the sound had been one of the few it had made in the last four hours they had been working. In between its forays to the file room, it stood waiting patiently by the door, never moving, never speaking.

"Do you have a name?" Lex surprised himself with the question and then when he thought about it, felt ashamed that he had never thought to ask before. Why had he not bothered with the common courtesy owed to anyone? Had he already decided subconsciously that the construct was a thing, asking whether it...*he* had a name, rather than asking what *his* name was, just like anyone else he might meet? Frowning at the disturbing thought, Lex got up from his chair and came around the desk to stand in front of the blank-faced construct. "What is your name?" The construct's green eyes met his briefly before dropping down and looking to the left. Lex followed the movement automatically to see the construct holding out its left arm, palm up.

Too many cups of coffee and Lex was sure every one of them had just been flushed away along with half of his still-roiling stomach and he didn't think he'd ever be able to forget, would never be able to blot out the sight of those numbers and the date tattooed on the underside of the construct's left arm, *his* left arm, the date two weeks in the future and the number, the same number he'd seen in photographs, tattooed on men and women who had been *herded* like, god, and his eyes were so green and they held pain behind the forced blankness and...just...fuck. Just...fuck.

 

. . .

 

"The last time I was here, the veal piccata was particularly good."

"Hmmm."

"Of course, I thought having a naked server deliver it to the table was bit over the top."

"Uh-hunh."

Lex's eyes lifted from the menu he was perusing as he felt it being pushed down gently by a long elegant finger. Amused blue eyes met his over the top.

"You really haven't heard a word I've said, have you?"

Flushing, Lex grinned sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Julian. Just a little...pre-occupied I guess."

"Tough case?"

Lex looked at the smiling face across from him and his stomach clenched at the thought that his brother, his mother's fair-haired child, could be involved with Cadmus Labs, could be in the business of manufacturing and selling lives. If he was wrong, if Julian wasn't aware and he accused him without proof, he could lose that smile, that unquestioning acceptance and loyalty he'd depended most of his life. He couldn't say anything, not yet. He couldn't, wouldn't take that risk but...

"Lex?"

He looked into those eyes now shadowed with concern, the ready smile fading more every second Lex failed to answer. Lex grasped for words, the right words, panicking. He shook his head, trying desperately to dismiss the memory of dulled green eyes, lifeless, disappearing behind the zipper that closed a black body bag on something that...no...*someone* who had been alive just minutes before, Garner's patently false distress at the premature failure of the construct assigned to help him...

"Lex?"

He felt Julian take his shaking hand, the concern in his voice cutting through Lex's racing thoughts. Summoning a smile from somewhere, Lex reassured him. "Yeah, Julian, a really tough one, but I think I'm coming close to finding out something...very important. Something that'll crack it wide open."

 

. . .

 

The clouds had lifted just after sunset and the stars were beckoning. Knowing that his father would be asleep for a few more hours, the young man left his favored position by the window and walked upstairs to the next level. There, they had set up a powerful telescope so that he could look at the stars, map the constellations, and sometimes dream of a night sky without barriers, whenever the weather permitted. He realized the telescope was trivial compared to the one used to track his arrival. That one was located elsewhere and he'd never seen it, although his father had told stories of picking up signals years before he and the meteors came to Earth. Fascinated, his father had poured all of his vast resources and knowledge into technologies that allowed him to decode the signals, calculate times and trajectories and prepare for...him, the sole survivor.

Adjusting the focus carefully, he bent over to peer out at the heavens. He had positioned the telescope earlier to point toward the planet or where a planet once was, a planet he would have called home. He and the meteors were the only physical remainders, they and his vehicle, the ship that had cradled him during his solitary journey. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure where the ship was now. After repeated attempts through the years to persuade him, he had finally convinced his father that he had no idea how to open it, and it had been taken away and the matter dropped. Somehow, he had known from the start that the men, who had taken him and his ship from the field that day, were not to be trusted. Years later, he still didn't understand why he hadn't entrusted the secret to his father, told him about the missing key.

Trust. He could love the man who protected him, but his complete trust had never been earned. If freedom had been offered from the start, if he'd been treated with kindness during those first days, it could have been very different. The memory of those days never faded, never allowed him to forget that he was not the same, not human and that he could do nothing to prevent a return to that fear and pain. Nothing that is, except feign a childish innocence, pretending to be complacent and obedient, a pretense that had soon become all too real.

Isolated, he understood he was imprisoned, despite the comforts he'd come to expect. His father had spoken often, before speech became too difficult to sustain conversation, of the need for secrecy, the danger of alerting the government to his existence. Insisting that his origins were never to be revealed to anyone, his father had declared silence in the presence of others as the best policy. Faced with the unvoiced threat of renewed experiments on his intermittent enhanced strength and speed or his ability to heal, he readily complied. His father had taken him away from that bleak cell and treated him kindly and had discovered the way to keep him alive on this planet that could not sustain him without assistance. His father had taught him everything he could within set boundaries and indulged a whim or two such as allowing him to select a favored food for his meal or to wear something that was not white, black or gray. His father was all he had that was good in this life.

A teardrop marred the gleaming surface of the telescope.

His father was dying.

So was his hope.

 

. . .

 

"Pete. Hey, I know it's late but I've got an early flight tomorrow and I wanted to fill you in."

Sitting at his desk in the quiet dark, the only light from the small lamp on the corner and the fire he'd lit earlier, Lex swirled the scotch in his glass and inhaled the biting, peaty tang without tasting. He'd already had his one drink earlier with Julian, so was limiting himself to sensory pleasures, the heft of the heavy crystal, the scent of the expensive well-aged liquor, and the sound of the ice clinking softly. He refused to give in, to allow just one more, to return to those days of excess despite the ever-present temptation.

"No problem. I'm glad you called. I wanted to pass on what Kyla told me today when I called her. It was really weird."

"Yeah? What was it?"

Lex set the glass down and pulled the legal pad that he'd been making notes on close enough to write if he needed to.

"Well, she was pretty upset when I told her about the constructs not being human, but I finally got her calmed down. She's really kind of cool when you get her talking about the work she's been doing on the Kawatche legends. The interesting part was what she said those symbols meant."

Lex sat up straighter in his chair.

"You mean the ones on the cave wall? They were in one of the photos she gave us."

"I know, I saw. Anyway, she said it was the legend of this god or warrior called Numan, who would come from the sky in a rain of fire. Supposedly he would have the strength of ten men and be able to shoot fire from his eyes."

"So?"

"So, this is in Smallville, the land of the weird. My parents would tell me about things happening there with their friends, things that happened after we moved away. They thought it was probably either from the meteors or Hamilton Technology."

"Wait. Did you say Hamilton Technology? Damn, that's another name I saw today."

Grabbing his pen, Lex circled the name on his notes.

"Yeah, that's who bought my family's creamed corn factory. So, the thing is the rain of fire...that's the meteors. And the constructs they seem to want to get back to Smallville according to the sheriff and they have..."

"The strength of ten men? I think you've been watching too many repeats of X-Files, Pete."

"You've got to admit it's a hell of a coincidence, Lex. Why else do those constructs keep showing up there?"

Lex's hand came to rest on left front pocket of his pants. He could feel the outline of the octagon, his fingertips tingling with the memory of tracing symbols that matched those painted on a rock wall hundreds of years before.

"I don't know, not yet anyway. And yes, I am interested in those symbols...for personal reasons. I'll have to wait a while longer to satisfy my curiosity, since I don't know what I'm going to find out in New York City."

"Why New York? What did you find out today at Cadmus?"

Lex closed his eyes, reluctant to revisit the day's disturbing events.

"Before it all fell apart today, I found out some of the details behind the constructs, how they're made, built, grown, whatever it is...and Cadmus isn't where it starts. They get shipments every week from another lab, one not owned by LuthorCorp. LuthorCorp doesn't hold the rights for the genetic material. They just own the equipment and the process for growing it."

"Wait. Back up. Fell apart?"

Lex sighed and reached for his glass without opening his eyes, the cool smooth sides soothing as he held it against his forehead.

"That bastard Garner assigned me one of the constructs, told it...*him* to pull any of the files I asked for. Everything was going okay until I got the bright idea to ask him, the construct, if he had a name."

"So?"

"Fuck. Pete, he had a tattoo on his left arm with a number. A number and the fucking date it...*he* was going to die, in two weeks. It made me sick, Pete, so sick...when I got back...he was dead. I think Garner did something because he was standing next to the body giving orders to the guys who picked it up."

"You're shitting me."

"I wish to hell I was, Pete. Garner's got to be behind all this, Pete. Julian..."

Opening his eyes, Lex caught himself absently raising the glass to his lips. He pulled it back and looked at it, mesmerized by the glint of the flames dancing in its depths.

"You had dinner with him tonight, didn't you?"

"Yeah. I didn't say anything. There's got to be some reason, some fast-shuffling going on with the Board of Directors or something. Julian would never do anything like this, he just wouldn't."

"Lex..."

"I know. I just want all the facts, Pete. I want to be sure first."

Lex could almost hear the struggle going on at the other end of the line.

"Lex, I..."

"Besides, I've got you to keep me honest, right?"

"Yeah, I've got your back, man."

Setting the glass back down without tasting, Lex pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed gently.

"Thanks."

"So, where in New York?"

"I have an appointment to talk to the guy who developed the genetic material. He owns VS Biotech. I had to use my FBI credentials *and* the fact that I own LuthorCorp to get in to see him."

"So who is this genius?"

"He's a multi-billionaire that makes Howard Hughes look like a social butterfly, since no one has really seen him in the last twenty years or so. Virgil Swann."

 

. . .  
Lex waited impatiently for Swann's security to verify his credentials. He wanted to get the interview over as quickly as possible, find what he was looking for so that he could understand exactly what was happening at Cadmus Labs and determine what he needed to do next, either as an owner or by enforcing the law. Reluctantly, he handed over his weapon to be held at the security station until he returned, feeling naked without the firearm he had carried for years. Finally, he was escorted to the private elevator that would take him to the top floor of Swann Tower, where he would meet the owner of Swann Industries and more specifically the genius behind VS Biotech.

Looking at the number of floors as he pressed the button, Lex smiled and pondered Julian's probable reaction to finding out Swann tower was five stories higher than LuthorCorp Plaza's twin towers. Knowing Julian's competitive spirit, he'd immediately decide to add a weather or radio station to the top of the towers to add enough height to allow him to state Swann Tower was shorter.

The thought of Julian left Lex grinning as he exited the elevator that opened directly on a spacious area with windows on all sides. Movable screens sectioned off the luxuriously carpeted space; a walled circular area in the center most likely contained storage areas and possibly a kitchen and bathroom. A ramp spiraled around the outside wall up to a second level where Lex could see a telescope pointing to the west.

As Lex stepped forward into the room, a young man, who had appeared unexpectedly around the corner of a painted Japanese screen, met him. Head down, Lex pulled out his identification, only to stop when he saw the man's face. Eyes wide, Lex stopped with his hand in mid-air, baffled by the presence of one of the constructs.

"May I help you?"

The construct's voice was even, well-modulated and pitched low. It suited his calm demeanor, his lack of surprise at Lex's actions. Dressed completely in black, the construct's skin was so pale as to be translucent; blue veins a delicate tracery beneath perfection. Lex's previous experience left him expecting golden skin and short dark hair above green eyes, a body heavy with musculature suited for manual labor. The creature before him was almost elfin, thin face burdened by thick sable locks that waved over slightly hunched shoulders, green eyes brilliant above carved cheekbones and a mouth that any woman would envy. The crimson mouth held no smile as the question was politely repeated.

"Sir? May I help you?"

Lex collected himself and completed his movement, presenting his FBI credentials. "I'm Inspector Luthor. I'm here to speak to Dr. Virgil Swann." He pulled his hand back as the construct made no attempt to examine his identification. "He's expecting me."

The construct's head inclined gracefully before Lex was escorted back around the screen. Following the black-clad figure that threaded without hesitation through the maze of rice paper calligraphy, Lex wondered if Cadmus Labs had produced Virgil Swann's construct, and if so, why with such radical differences. They emerged into a cleared area containing a hospital bed surrounded by medical monitors and equipment. Advancing to the head of the bed, the construct placed a gentle hand on the occupant's shoulder and leaned over, smiling.

"Father, your visitor is here."

. . .

 

The young man turned away from his father's face when the visitor, Inspector Luther, made an odd sound. Looking up, he saw what seemed to be shock flicker across the oddly familiar face before it was replaced by calm, the same calm his father had taught him was important to maintain at all times. Returning his attention to his father, he elevated the bed a few inches and placed his frail hand on the keyboard that allowed his father to communicate. Smiling once more into beloved eyes, he bent to place a soft kiss on his sunken cheek before stepping back and gesturing to the visitor to take his place.

"I'll wait at the window. Please call me if you desire assistance."

Moving to the left-hand bank of windows, he took his usual position, head tilted against the glass, looking down into the city streets and imagining what it would be like to be out there. He felt a sudden chill and rubbed his arms, wondering if he should get a sweater to go over his short-sleeved shirt. Shrugging, not caring enough to move, he simply clasped his arms around himself and continued to watch the world outside.

. . .

 

"Dr. Swann?"

Lex stood over the remnants of a man who once stood taller than he did, now wasted to bones and papery flesh. Machinery clicked and wheezed, tubes ran into bruised veins and only the blue eyes still lived, vital and alert. Soft clicking under a feeble hand produced words with no intonation, words that startled Lex.

"Why are you here?"

Frowning, Lex introduced himself again.

"I'm Inspector Luthor of the FBI. I'm also Alexander Luthor, one of the principal owners of LuthorCorp." Stopping long enough to make sure there was no electronic response, Lex continued. "I'm here to find out what I can about the genetic material VS Biotech supplies Cadmus Labs, one of LuthorCorp's subsidiaries. Cadmus receives a shipment every week."

"Why?"

Lex glanced up at the construct standing a few yards away, peering out the window and paying no attention to the bedside conversation. Lex watched the construct rub his arms as if he were cold and as he studied him, Lex tried to figure out what was radically different about that particular construct. Suddenly, as the construct's arms dropped to his side, Lex saw the reason, the vital difference.

"I want to understand how you developed the material and why they fail after 36 months. I want to understand, Dr. Swann, how you can justify creating something that could be considered human and then submitting it to slavery and premature death."

Lex's voice had risen as he spoke, his frustration at the past few days breaking through. The construct's head came around and his green eyes watched Lex, betraying no emotion. When Lex said nothing further, his attention returned to the window.

"Not human."

"If they aren't human, then why does one of them call you Father?"

Lex could feel the weight of the sunken blue eyes as they searched his face. After a minute, they seemed to find the answers they sought and the mechanical voice resumed.

"Son is primary."

. . .

 

The inspector's voice had pulled him away from his pre-occupation with the busy streets below for a brief moment, but he could tell the man meant no harm. He wanted to look at him again, his smooth head, his scarred lip and the blue eyes that had seemed to look inside and see...something, more than the technicians that came to clean his blood or the cleaners that came in occasionally. He was afraid to look, though, because it broke his father's rules to call attention to himself, to talk to strangers.

Turning his head slightly, he found he could see the man's reflection without him noticing and he watched as he bent over his father and asked questions in a quieter voice. The inspector looked angry, except when his head came up and looked in his direction, looked at him standing by the window and attempting to be invisible. His smooth, slightly rounded face seemed to soften, look kinder, much like his father's had years ago when he was younger and still learning how to act. He wore colors, too. Not just white and black, but blue the same color as the sky, a color he had learned from books because his father was color-blind and saw only black and white, so he saw no need for color in his world perched high above the ground.

The problem was that colors did not reflect well in the window, so looking out at the sky would do as well. Laying his palm against the window, he sighed out his usual wish.

"Outside. I just want to go outside once."

. . .

 

Lex didn't understand what Dr. Swann was telling him. He claimed the constructs weren't human and yet he kept one with him and called him 'son'. Frustrated he looked up again at the puzzle standing at the window and saw him place his hand on the window. The words spoken were soft, almost impossible to make out, but Lex was sure the dark-haired figure was pleading to go outside. He turned back to the doctor to try again.

"Are you saying *he* is the first one? If that's so, why hasn't he failed?"

"Not the same."

Lex's mouth twisted in ill-humor.

"I can see that. He doesn't look as strong and...he doesn't have a tattoo. Why didn't you develop the others so they can live longer too?"

Swann's eyes closed, exhaustion apparent in his face. His hand moved, nonetheless.

"Son. Here."

While Lex was still trying to figure out what kind of answer he'd just been given, the construct approached the other side of the bed and leaned over to look into the face of the man who labeled himself his father.

"Father?"

"Safe."

The construct nodded, waiting.

"Yes?"

"Name and date. Yours. Code."

The calm of the construct's face was disturbed, a small frown appearing between his eyes and Lex felt the urge to reach across and smooth it away, to return the beautiful face to its former state.

"Father?"

The words were coming slower, farther apart as if a clockwork toy were running down.

"Open. Take. Go."

The wild green eyes that looked up into Lex's were filled with panic and Lex should see the tremors that shook his thin frame. The desperate whisper tore at Lex's heart.

"Where? How do I do this, Father?"

Heavy eyelids were forced open a last time and blue eyes that had become dull beseeched Lex's, turning away from the distraught construct.

"Save...him."

The eyes closed for the last time and only evidence of his continued existence was the steady beeping of the machines.

. . .

 

When his father would not rouse, he knew that the end was near. Looking up at the inspector who stood at the other side of the bed looking bewildered, he understood his father had given him a chance, a chance he would take.

"Please wait."

Taking a deep breath, he walked quickly up the ramp to the second level and opened a panel behind the telescope stand. Inside was the safe his father had spoken of and inside that was something his father wanted him to take away. Thinking about the code his father had given him, he reviewed their lessons on cryptography. He knew the variant his father preferred for primary encryption, when he was still able to write, so he applied it to the letters of his birth name and the eight digits of the date he arrived on Earth. He inserted the corresponding number of the alphabet for each letter between the numbers of the date. The result was a fourteen digit code that he punched in rapidly.

The safe opened immediately and he retrieved a folder, several envelopes and data discs. Under those items, he found what he thought might be money; it seemed to match some of the descriptions he had read in some books. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the inspector beginning to ascend the ramp, so he quickly inserted the bundle of paper money inside his briefs, hoping the bulge would not be detectable since his clothing was usually loose-fitting for comfort. He pulled his shirt down to help conceal it as well. Turning, he held out the folder, envelopes and discs to the inspector, waiting until he took them before walking back down the ramp and along the wall. When he arrived at the elevator, he pressed the button to summon it, hearing the inspector walk up behind him.

 

. . .

 

Lex had the distinct impression that it was important that he and the construct leave as soon as possible. The conversation with Dr. Swann had left him with more questions than answers, but it was apparent that avenue of information was now closed. He could only hope the items the construct had just handed him would contain what he needed. As he came up behind the construct, who almost vibrated in place as he waited for the elevator, he was greeted with the first smile he'd seen, the bright green eyes shining.

"I would like to go outside now, Inspector Luthor."

Lex looked at the face transformed by excitement and scorned the idea that anyone could look at it and think he was anything but human.

"Then that's what we'll do."

The elevator door opened and after they entered, Lex reached over to press the button for the ground floor. He glanced at his companion and smiled at the joy that seemed to radiate from every pore.

"What is your name?"

Wide eyes looked at him and Lex noticed that the construct was actually a few inches taller, a fact that hadn't been apparent earlier in the apartment. Lex suddenly realized it was because he was standing straight, shoulders back and head held high. A large hand came up slowly towards Lex's face and he held himself deliberately still, unflinching as it grazed over the crown of his head and then back down his cheek before being withdrawn. An even wider smile appeared and white teeth gleamed.

"Kal-El. My name is Kal-El."

. . .

 

Walking out of the elevator into the spacious lobby left Kal-El breathless. Just ahead, he could see the doors to outside and a world of colors and sounds. The sunlight that streamed in through the plate-glass windows tingled on his skin and he wondered at the difference since he had never felt it standing at the windows up above the ground. He followed the inspector who approached a desk, and waited as patiently as he could while the older man asked for something from the man seated behind the desk. Seeing him occupied with a clipboard and papers, Kal-El began to walk toward the doors and when another man pushed one open, Kal-El found himself drawn inexorably through and out into an explosion of light, color, sound and smell that almost drove him to his knees in sensory overload. Behind him, he heard a shrieking, piercing sound and looking back inside the building he saw the inspector waving his arms and looking angry with several men surrounding him.

The guns they held pointed at the inspector made it clear that he was on his own now. Recognizing where he was from his days spent watching the streets below, Kal-El turned and began walking quickly and when he reached the stairs to the subway, he walked down them just like any human would and then he was gone.

 

. . .

 

"Listen buddy, you're holding up the line. If you're not going to buy a ticket, get out of the way so the rest of us can."

Watching the money push its way back out of the machine once again, Kal-El hunched his shoulders against the angry mutterings behind him. He was sure he had presented the paper in the correct orientation, but the machine kept rejecting it. Discouraged, he pulled the paper out of the slot and moved aside so that the large man, who had been complaining steadily, could take his place. Watching carefully, he saw no difference in how the other man pushed his money into the machine, leaving Kal-El baffled.

Earlier, after walking down the stairs into the large underground area, Kal-El had moved to the nearest wall and stood quietly, carefully watching the ebb and flow of people as they moved in and out of different hallways and staircases. He'd noted small yellow rectangles being slid through boxes before a metal arm allowed passage to the next area. Further observation had revealed that the yellow rectangles were obtained from machines along one wall. A person would approach, present soft paper money or a hard rectangle to the machine, press some buttons and a card would appear.

Kal-El had not known where he needed to go to, only that it was to the west. He felt it pull at him all the time, the urgency decreasing whenever he turned in the right direction. In the tower, he had determined it was to the west and so that was where he would travel as quickly as he could. Looking at the signs on the wall, he had been dismayed to find there were no directional indicators, just colored lines and names. Standing there, holding his arms around himself, he'd scanned the names repeatedly, looking for some clue as to where he needed to go.

"Are you lost? Do you need some help?"

Kal-El had looked down to see an white-haired woman with a kind face standing next to him, her smile gentle as she waited for a answer. She was tiny and Kal-El would have thought her a child if it weren't for the signs of age he recognized from years of caring for his father.

"Yes, please. I need to go west."

Turning, she'd looked at the map and then pointed to a spot high on the right. "Westchester? That's on the green line." Spinning around, she had pointed to one of the hallways beyond the boxes. "That's where you need to go." She'd patted his hand before walking away humming, dragging a small wheeled cart behind her.

"Westchester. The green line." Kal-El had repeated the directions he'd received, pulled one of his pieces of paper out of his briefs and then approached the machines that would supply the yellow rectangle he needed to start his journey. That was when he'd found out there was more that he needed to learn first. Now he stood there with his paper money in his hand, torn between waiting to try again when the line of people had dispersed, and abandoning this method of transportation for another. If he left, it meant returning to the street above and possibly meeting the men with the weapons, something Kal-El decided he would rather postpone. Squaring his shoulders, he stepped to the back of the shortest line and waited for another chance.

"It's not going to take that, you know."

The quiet voice from the next line over caught Kal-El's attention and he turned his head to see a young man leaning in his direction.

"It only takes twenty and under."

Kal-el looked down at the paper in his hand and saw a one hundred in the corner. He held it up to his latest helper.

"How do I get the right one?"

Grabbing Kal-El's arm, the young man pulled Kal-El out of the line and off to the side. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a piece of paper like Kal-El's, only the other man's had the required twenty in the corner. The man spoke in such a quiet whisper that Kal-El barely heard the generous offer he made.

"I'll trade you mine for yours."

Kal-El couldn't believe how fortunate he had been to have encountered two helpful people in such a short span of time. Thanking the young man, he handed over his paper, receiving the coveted piece with a twenty on it in return. Returning to the line, he waiting patiently for his turn and was excited when the paper was accepted and his yellow rectangle appeared. Walking away from the machine, he looked for his newest friend to say thank you once more, only to find he had vanished.

Feeling a little disappointed, Kal-El approached the metal box, inserted his yellow rectangle and slid it through. Walking through to the other side, he placed it in his pocket to keep it safe and walked down the hallway that his first helper had indicated, feeling much more confident in his ability to survive outside the tower. The journey would be very easy if everyone continued to be so helpful.

 

. . .

 

Twenty minutes.

It had taken the security buffoons twenty minutes to decide that FBI Inspector Luthor did not need to be detained and that he could have his weapon returned to him safely. Lex believed the last was questionable, since he immediately wanted to shoot every one of the idiots in a non-fatal location the minute he had the gun back in his hand. The alarm that had gone off was a medical alert for the top floor, not for a breach of security, but the guards barred all exit and entry to the building until they were informed that they were to stand down. Lex overheard one of the guards talking to another while he paced impatiently, and he gathered that Dr. Swann had died around the time that he and Kal-El had exited the elevator and approached the guard station.

Kal-El's escape outside just before the shutdown was unfortunate, but at least the items Lex had received from Dr. Swann were still in his possession, the guards never questioning the fact that he was carrying something he didn't have with him when he took the elevator up to see Dr. Swann. Lex made a mental note to talk to Julian about LuthorCorp security to make sure the caliber of the guards was significantly higher than the clowns' still milling about the lobby.

Emerging into the midday sun, Lex smoothed down his shirt and tucked the data discs and envelopes in the inside pocket of his jacket, shrugging it back into perfect order as he looked up and down the street for any sight of the dark-haired construct dressed in black. The number of New Yorkers that favored the color did not help in his cursory search. Spotting the nearby subway entrance, Lex took a chance and ran down the stairs to check, but there was no sight of Kal-El. Rubbing the back of his neck, Lex spun around slowly and returned to the street above, not sure where to begin looking. Glancing down at the folder he was still carrying, he frowned. Maybe it was time to start reading.

 

. . .

 

Kal-El welcomed the warmth of the sun when he exited the Westchester station. He had been able to enjoy very little of the pleasant sensation before leaving it behind for the underground and raising his face to the sky he smiled at the blue above. Following the stream of people, he found himself on a busy sidewalk, the sounds of cars and buses mingling with the cries of people standing behind tables filled with colorful clothing and jewelry. An enticing aroma drew Kal-El toward a wheeled cube where smoke gathered under a red and yellow striped umbrella.

Approaching slowly, Kal-El watched as the rotund man, with red hair and light-brown spots on his face, removed a reddish cylinder with dark lines from the top of the cube that smoked and placed it inside something Kal-El thought might be bread. A red-brown sauce followed with yellow bits sprinkled on the top and the entire construction was handed to a tall man with dark skin. Holding his meal in one hand, he handed a piece of paper to the first man, receiving more papers in return that he quickly tucked away in his pocket. Kal-El watched as the dark man took a large bite and made sounds of pleasure and his own stomach made it clear that food like that would be welcome.

As Kal-El drew close to the cube, an animal that Kal-El recognized as a dog stood up from its resting place and walked toward him, wagging its tail. Kal-El halted and the golden-haired dog came close enough to sniff his knee delicately, tail still wagging, the long hair lifting in the slight breeze.

"He won't hurt you. Come here, Shelby."

The man behind the cube patted one thigh as he called the dog back from Kal-El. Shelby returned and was rewarded with a fond pat on the head and ruffling of his floppy ears.

"What can I get you? Dog and kraut, chili-dog, or just free and clear?"

Kal-El dragged his eyes away from the dog and looked in disbelief at the man who had just offered him some sort of dog to eat.

"You eat dogs? Like that one?"

The man raised one eyebrow and gave a lop-sided smile. He pointed to a sign on the front of the cube and Kal-El read 'Frank's Hots' without feeling any less confused.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

Kal-El shook his head slowly and looked at the dog that stood quietly next to the man, and the dog looked back at Kal-El. The man chuckled and patted the dog's head again.

"Listen, hotdogs aren't really made out of dog, it's just a name. Why don't you try just a plain one to see if you like it?"

Kal-El nodded and smiled tentatively before taking the last few steps that put him in front of the cube. He watched as the man, Frank, prepared another hotdog and added only a yellow sauce to it. As he waited, he felt something cold and wet touch his hand and looking down, he saw the dog nudging him with its nose before licking his fingers. A smile of delight broke over Kal-El's face, and he reached out to pat the dog's head gently, just as he had seen the man do earlier. The dog pressed closer, its tail wagging even harder, and thrust its head under Kal-El's hand, making him laugh.

"He likes you. He doesn't usually do that with strangers."

Frank smiled as he handed the hotdog to Kal-El, who thanked him politely. Arms crossed over his belly, Frank waited for Kal-El to take a bite, which he did without delay as the intensified smell made his mouth water. The first bite left him stunned, the complex flavors bursting over his tongue as he chewed the hot food. The second bite rapidly followed the first, and Kal-El understood the sound the dark man had made earlier and wanted to make one of his own.

"Good, hunh?"

Kal-El nodded as he chewed, knowing he shouldn't speak with his mouth full. He reached into his pants and pulled out a paper, offering it to Frank as he shoved the final bite into his mouth.

"I can't break that. Don't you have anything smaller?"

Frank was frowning at Kal-El now, and he chewed frantically so he could ask what he had done wrong to upset his newest helper. Swallowing hard, he choked a little before he could speak clearly, and his voice trembled a little in distress.

"My papers are all the same size. I don't have any smaller papers. See?"

Reaching into his pants, Kal-El started to pull out the thick wad of paper until Frank raised his hands and leaned over the cube to hiss at Kal-El, ordering him to put it back, immediately.

"You can't do that right out in public! You'll get yourself in a heap of hurt if someone sees that and decides to roll you for it." He sighed. "Let me think a minute." He looked down the street and then called out. "Hey, Billy!"

A short dark-skinned man said something to a second man behind a table, and jogged down to Frank's cube.

"Yeah?"

Frank jerked his chin in Kal-El's direction, where he had resumed petting Shelby while waiting for Frank to solve the problem of the paper that was too big.

"That one there needs change. See what you can do. And be nice. I don't think he's all there, but he looks like a good kid." Frank snapped his fingers to get Kal-El and Shelby's attention. "Go with Billy, he'll take your paper and give you more...geez, they're called bills...or dollars...back and you bring them to me. OK?"

With one last pat for Shelby, Kal-El walked over to Billy. Nodding in greeting, Billy gestured toward the table he had left and began jogging back, Kal-El following close behind him. Reaching the table, Billy asked to see the bill Kal-El was holding.

"A hundred. All right, why don't you buy yourself a shirt and I'll give you the change like Frank asked." Pointing to the multi-colored pile of fabric on the table, Billy smiled. "The usual deal is two shirts for fifteen dollars, one for ten. Frank said to be nice, so I'll make it eight for you."

Flipping over several of the shirts, Billy waved Kal-El over so he could pick one out. As Kal-El ran his hands over the soft cotton, he marveled at the brilliant colors. Pulling carefully, he uncovered a bright yellow tee-shirt that would be large enough for him to wear. A vivid red apple, with a bite out of it, adorned the front of the shirt with the slogan 'Take a Bite Out Of the Big Apple' below it. Happy with his find, Kal-El showed it to Billy.

"This one, please."

Grinning at his choice, Billy accepted the hundred and carefully counted out ninety-two dollars in change, after he showed Kal-El how to hold out his hand palm up to accept it. Tucking the bills into his pants pocket, Kal-El looked at his new shirt and then back up at Billy.

"Can I wear it now?"

Billy nodded his head and laughed.

"It's your shirt, kid. Do whatever you want. Now go back to Frank and show him I treated you nice."

Watching as Kal-El immediate pulled the shirt on over the one he was wearing, Billy's eyes softened and he echoed Kal-El's grin when he finished arranging the shirt to his liking and looked up for Billy's approval.

"You look great, kid. Listen, you take care of yourself. Now, go on. Get back to Frank."

Kal-El trotted back to Frank, eager to show him his new shirt and to pet Shelby some more. Frank finished serving another customer then looked over at Kal-El, who had decided that sitting on the ground enabled much better petting coverage with the full endorsement of Shelby. Kal-El's face glistened under the hot sun and Shelby's enthusiastic licking. Frank grinned fondly at the sight and called them over.

"Hey, you two. Enough of that. Get over here, kid, and let me see what Billy did for you."

Kal-El jumped up and hurried to Frank, pulling the change that Billy had given him out of his pocket.

"I have a new shirt, see, and bills. How many do I give you?"

Frank rolled his eyes and reached for the crumpled mess in Kal-El's hand. Straightening the bills out, he counted and nodded his head, evidently satisfied that Billy had not taken advantage of Kal-El's innocence. Plucking the two one's from the top, he handed the rest back, neatly folded.

"I took two one dollar bills and that leaves you with nine ten dollar bills. That's ninety dollars."

Kal-El took the bills back and looked at the tens in the corners of the bill. He thought about what Frank had just told him and then remembered what had happened at the subway station.

"The higher the number, the more the bill is worth, correct?" At Frank's puzzled nod, he continued. "If I gave you a ten bill, you could give me ten one bills and neither of us would be worth less?" Kal-El frowned. "If I traded a one hundred bill for a twenty bill, I would be foolish, correct?" Frank nodded and sighed.

"Listen, kid. What's your name? Does your mom or dad know where you are right now?"

Kal-El shook his head, but still answered the question as he looked down at Shelby.

"My name is Kal-El. I do not have a mother and I think my father must be dead now."

Frank's mouth twisted as he watched Kal-El begin petting Shelby again.

"Kal, is it? Kal, what's your dad's name?"

Chuckling as Shelby jumped up and tried to lick his face, Kal-El fended the dog off long enough to answer.

"My father is Doctor Virgil Swann."

Frank nodded and began to close his umbrella and lay covers on top of his cube.

"Well Kal, I think we need to find a number to call and see if we can't get you back to your father, or wherever you belong."

As Frank's words penetrated Kal-El's preoccupation with Shelby, he straightened up and looked into the man's face with fear in his green eyes. Trembling, Kal-El began backing away and Shelby followed, whining at the change in his playmate. Hands raised, as if to push his betrayer away, Kal-El shook his head in denial before turning and running down the street, leaving Frank and Billy and Shelby behind.

 

. . .

 

He'd been very careful about never asking about where the meteors had fallen, never asking anything about that day, never hinting that he had met anyone else or that he knew where the key to the ship was and most importantly, never revealing how to open the ship he had closed just before his captors arrived. Asking would have sent them looking. He may have loved his father, but that did not mean he trusted him completely.

Looking up at the night sky through the leaves of the tree he was leaning against, Kal-El wondered if he would find what was summoning him before he grew too ill. He had run until his side hurt and no one had tried to stop him. He'd walked after that, always moving to the west, following where the pull would take him. The green of a park had beckoned as the night fell and Kal-El had found a soft place to sit in the grass under a tree. He was glad that he had purchased the shirt because the night held a chill. It was overlarge, so he was able to draw his arms inside and huddle, his back against the rough bark. He attempted to sleep, surrounded by noises whose origins he could only imagine. In the morning, his search would continue.

 

. . .

 

Frustrated that he'd still been unable to learn anything useful, Lex tossed Swann's folder on the desk and stood in the center of the room rubbing the back of his neck. He'd yanked his tie off earlier and thrown it on the bed in a crumpled ball, his jacket was hanging askew from the back of the ergonomic chair supplied by the hotel, and he thought his shoes might be under the bed. He wasn't supposed to be here, wasn't supposed to hanging out in a luxury hotel in downtown Manhattan with no luggage, no laptop, and no idea how to locate one biological construct that could be human, in a population of fifty million. Essentially, he was looking for a young man who officially didn't exist.

The papers in the folder seemed to be some sort of schematic and possibly the details on its development or usage. The difficulty was that it had been written in code and Lex did not possess the key needed to decipher it. Considering that Kal-El had been able to open Swann's safe with the few hints supplied, Lex felt almost positive he'd also be able to help translate and clear up another mystery, if Lex could find him. It would help if he had any idea where Kal-El might have gone.

According to Lex's sources, Swann had never married. In addition, there was no birth certificate or adoption on record for Kal-El, who had referred to Swann as 'Father' just as Swann had called Kal-El his son. There was no legal relationship between the two that Lex could find. The security guards had never seen him entering or leaving the building. They had not been aware of anyone living with Swann, let alone a young man. They had also assumed the medical personnel that occupied the floor below the penthouse were caring for Swann. Lex knew that he would be unable to obtain Swann's medical records without a great deal of favors being exchanged, so he was reserving that for the future.

The data disks would have to wait until he had his laptop. That left the contents of two mysterious envelopes to investigate. One held a list of names and dates with a phone number at the top. Lex decided that the next time he spoke to Pete, he'd ask him to run the names and dates through the FBI's database, as well as the phone number. The other envelope held a flat metal key and nothing else.

Lex had missed his flight back to Metropolis for a phantom and an unidentified key.

. . .

 

The leather bound journal looked too innocuous to hold earth-shattering secrets. Opening it to the last page, Lex confirmed that it was Swann's and that the final entry had been made years ago. Standing in front of the small locker he'd just opened, Lex felt his frustration mounting again as he hit another dead-end. Slamming the locker shut, he thrust the journal in his jacket pocket and headed for the taxi stand outside.

Lex had really hoped he would find something useful in the locker, considering where it had been kept. It was a fluke that the bartender at the hotel had recognized the key. Lex had been moodily flipping it on the bar as he nursed his one drink. One flip had sent the key behind the bar where the bartender picked it up, and then he'd mentioned having had one himself, when he first came to the city. Lex had immediately headed for Grand Central Station, eager to see what Swann had stored in such a public location. An old diary was unexpected, but Lex would read it and hope to find something that would explain Swann and the constructs. Directing the cabdriver to his hotel, Lex sat back and tried to rest. He would be flying back to Metropolis on the earliest flight available and that was just a few short hours away.

. . .

 

"Good evening, Senator Carson. How nice to see you. It's been a while."

The elegant brunette held out her hands in greeting to the middle-aged gentleman who had just entered the room. Inclining her head gracefully, she swept one hand to the side indicating that her guest should take a seat on the lushly upholstered sofa. She looked at the servant who had escorted the senator into her drawing room and gave a short nod. The servant left, closing the wide double doors behind him.

'So tell me, Senator. What brings to my humble establishment this evening? Any particular requests?"

The graying man leaned forward and gave a sly smile before responding in a low confidential tone.

"Victoria, I understand that you have been able to obtain some special talent. I'd be very interested in seeing if the stories are true."

A trilling laugh issued from Victoria, just before a discrete knock on the door caught her attention.

"I thought as much. They *are* very suited to your tastes." She raised her voice. "Bring them in!"

The servant pushed open the doors and stood aside to allow two young men to enter, before closing it again. They advanced to the center of the room where they stood silent, side by side. Victoria smiled when she heard the sharp intake of breath from the man seated in the sofa.

"They are lovely, aren't they?"

The senator rose and walked toward the two men and circled them slowly. Their only clothing was a simple gauze wrap around their loins, which did little to conceal their attributes, and a metal collar. They stood at attention, green eyes unblinking, faces passive under dark curls as each body was examined, not even flinching when the senator ran his hand along the flank of the nearest.

"They're exquisite, perfect twins, and not a mark on them. Perfectly tanned skin, and those incredible muscles...that frame." The senator turned to the woman, his face intent. "I want them."

Victoria's smile was wide and delighted. "Of course, we'll make the arrangements. You know where to transfer the money." The smile grew predatory as Victoria looked at her customer. "One requirement however, the collars must stay on. Use discretion, Senator. Although, it's true that if they break, by accident of course, there's more just like them. *Exactly* like them."

 

. . .

 

The trill of children's laughter woke Kal-El. His slumber under the tree had been fitful, broken by unfamiliar sounds and the chill of the night. It wasn't until the sun rose, and crept under the thin canopy of leaves to touch his face, that Kal-El was able to fall into a restful sleep. The piping cries drew him out and he followed the sound to an open area filled with colorful structures and laughing children. He watched them, amazed at the freedom they had to run and play at will.

A woman called out to a young boy and he came running to her. Kal-El could just make out the conversation, which dealt with the need for the boy to use a toilet. That reminded Kal-El of his urgent needs and he watched as the woman lead the boy to a nearby building. Following them, Kal-El stayed back far enough to avoid notice, but close enough to observe. The woman stopped to ask the boy if he knew which door to use. He pointed to a sign with a figure that Kal-El thought might represent a male. The boy confirmed Kal-El's belief by pointing to another sign with a similar shape with the addition of a triangle to the center and declaring it was the 'girls' restroom.' Patting the boy's head fondly, the woman sent him through the indicated door and stood waiting to one side.

Kal-El approached the building warily, watching the woman for any sign of distress or recognition. She paid little attention to him until he was almost to the door, then she shifted and began to watch Kal-El closely. Her stance relaxed when the boy pushed back out through the door, wiping his hands on his pants. With a final glance over her shoulder at Kal-El, she pushed the boy along in front of her and back to the other children. Freed from constraint, Kal-El hurried inside and used the toilet, sighing in relief. He also took the time to wash his hands and face, as well as he could manage with the cold water available in the rust-stained sink. Looking into the finger-smudged mirror above the sink, he noticed a leaf in his hair and he ran his fingers through his hair to dislodge any other foreign materials before leaving the small restroom.

One of his needs taken care of, Kal-El determined his next objective was to obtain food. Feeling pleased at his success using a child as a teacher, Kal-El watched the children until he saw a woman leaving with several children. He followed at a distance, hoping that she would be taking the children to a place with food. Walking a few hundred feet behind the group, Kal-El found himself smiling at the antics of one of the children who was bouncing and singing, making the other children laugh.

It was good to hear laughter. It wasn't something he'd heard very often in the past and now it filled an aching place inside that Kal-El hadn't know existed. Kal-El wondered if he would ever find a reason to laugh and hoped he'd get a chance to find out if he could. He thought that maybe he could laugh with a child or perhaps the boy he'd met the day he arrived on the planet. Kal-El had always found it comforting knowing that helping a child had been the last independent decision he had been able to make before the day before, and his release from the tower. He hoped the boy and his parents were happy like the people he was following. Thinking about that day, Kal-El suddenly understood that the boy would be a man, a man older than Kal-El, perhaps someone like the Inspector, and he was saddened at the thought of the years he had lost, and the short days he had left.

Distracted by his thoughts, Kal-El almost walked by the building that the woman and children had entered. It was a brightly lit space, and Kal-El could hear cheerful music each time the doors slid open to let someone in or out of its confines. Kal-El watched carefully and soon noted that as soon as someone approached within a certain distance, the doors opened automatically. Nodding to himself, he walked forward with confidence and smiled with delight as the doors opened with a whoosh. Still smiling, he kept walking until he reached a center aisle, and then stood in open-mouthed awe at the bounty that surrounded him.

"Can I help you find something, sir?" The voice behind him startled Kal-El and he spun around to see a young woman dressed in a blue smock. She smiled at him and repeated her question. "You look a little lost. Can I help you?"

Calmed by her friendly face, Kal-El gave a slight nod. "Yes, please. I'm hungry and would like to purchase some food."

The woman's smile widened. "Oh, you're in the clothing section." She turned and pointed across the building. "You need to walk that way and the food section starts at aisle 17." She pointed to a sign above Kal-El's head that said aisle 4. "Anything else?"

Kal-El shook his head and smiled. "No, thank you." He watched as she inclined her head to say goodbye and then walked toward another person who had walked in through the whooshing doors. He turned and began to walk to the indicated aisle only to stop at the sound of a child's laughter. It drew him, and he proceeded down the nearest aisle until he saw the woman he'd been following, and her children. One of the boys held something Kal-El recognized as a backpack. He'd seen others on the subway, and he watched, fascinated, as the boy demonstrated the various zippers and pockets to the woman. She reached out, ruffled the boy's hair, and told him that she would buy it for him. The group left, and Kal-El thought for a moment before he picked up an identical backpack, carrying it with him as he resumed his search for aisle 17 and food.

. . .

 

Comfortable new athletic shoes on his feet, a change of clothing and food in his new backpack, Kal-El looked to the west and began walking. He savored the crisp red apple he was eating and looked forward to trying out all the different items he had picked up after watching his unknowing teachers. Excitement bubbled under his skin, and as he lifted his face to the sun, he could feel it seeping inside, warming him to the bone. It felt like it was filling him with strength, energy he could only remember having once before, and had lost soon after he entered his confinement. Kal-El thought that he finally understood why he'd always craved the sun and he removed his new jacket so he could feel it on his arms as well. He was happier than he could ever remember being, and looked forward to spending his final days traveling and enjoying his time in a sun-filled world where everything was new and exciting.

. . .

 

Finishing the candy bar he'd taken from his backpack, Kal-El tucked the brightly colored wrapper into his pocket. As the sun slid below the horizon, sending a chill over him, a large truck pulled over in front of him on the side of the road. He began to walk around it, but stopped when a pleasant voice called down from an open window above his head. A young man with red hair leaned out and smiled down at him. "So you want a ride or not?"

Kal-El looked out at the darkness and then back up at the friendly-looking face. He nodded and smiled back. "Yes, please."

The man grinned and hooked a thumb at the door on the other side of the truck. "Well, get on in here then, and let's get going." He reached across and opened the door for Kal-El, who scrambled up easily. He sat in the seat and set his backpack down between his legs. The man looked at him quizzically before pointing to the straps hanging by the side of the door. "Buckle up, man." Kal-El looked at the straps and noted that the man had them across his body with a metal fastener at his hip. With a little fumbling, Kal-El managed to imitate the arrangement and the man nodded before starting the truck again and pulling back out onto the road.

After a quick glance at Kal-El, the man began to speak. "Where you headed?"

Kal-El pointed out the front window. "West."

The man flashed another grin, keeping his eyes on the road. "That covers a lot of ground. Any place in particular?"

Kal-El shook his head. "I don't have the name, but I'll know it when I get there."

"Okay, I guess that makes some sense if you're just traveling for the sake of traveling. Do *you* have a name?"

"K...." Kal-El stopped himself, remembering that he needed to conceal his identity. He thought of the blue and red wrapper in his pocket. "Clark. I'm Clark."

"I'm Jimmy Olsen. Pleased to meet you." He offered his hand, and Kal-El took it as he had seen others do. "Well, Clark, got a last name?"

Kal-El thought of a kind face, one that had felt smooth under his fingers the day before. "Luthor. My name is Clark Luthor."

. . .

 

Jerking awake at the sound of the phone on the desk, Lex grabbed for the diary sliding out of his lap and missed. The thump of the book against the floor was a counterpoint to the shrill ringing, as well as the expletives Lex muttered as he rubbed his stiff neck. He hadn't meant to fall asleep in the chair while reading, but it had been a long, frustrating day, and the diary hadn't been very interesting. Picking up the receiver, Lex growled, "Yes?"

"You requested a 6:00 AM wakeup call, Mr. Luthor."

Lex hung up after a quick thank-you and picked the leather-bound book up. Glancing at the page it had fallen open to automatically, he sat back in the chair, and continued to read the incredible words that followed the scribbled entry about Swann's alternative to the SETI program and his successful retrieval of a message from space. The date of the last entry brought him bolt upright and scrambling for his cell phone.

. . .

 

"Pete, this is Lex. Listen, it looks like I'm going to be stuck here for at least another day, maybe two. I need as much information as you can find on Virgil Swann, and I'll use the hotel's business center to fax you a list of names and dates, along with a phone number. Anything you can get me on them would help. I owe you one, Pete. I'll try to call you this afternoon, when you're in the office. Thanks."

Lex closed his cell phone and frowned at the list he needed to fax. He hoped Pete would pick up his message quickly and have enough time to track down the information he needed. After re-reading the last few entries in Swann's diary, he had even more questions, and a feeling that he didn't have a lot of time left to find the answers.

Calling the front desk, he asked the concierge to obtain a new suit, accessories, and the toiletries he'd need for his stay, one of the rare times he'd taken advantage of the Luthor name and money. After using the fax, he returned to his room, where he quickly showered and changed before running to catch a taxi to the precinct handling Dr. Swann's death.

. . .

 

"Lex? I've got what you wanted on Swann. I'm still working on the names and dates."

Lex was relieved to hear Pete's voice after a long day spent with the detective assigned to investigate Swann's death. Although the medical examiner had found no evidence that Swann's death was due to anything but natural causes, Swann's wealth and influence necessitated a thorough investigation. The detective in charge of the case had been quite willing to take advantage of Lex's experience, and Lex had accompanied him to Swann's penthouse for further questioning of the security and medical personnel.

"That's great, Pete. I need everything I can get." Taking a seat at the desk in his room, Lex pulled out a pad of paper and began to take notes.

"Here goes. Virgil Swann, Ph.D. was a high-tech Howard Hughes forty-five or so years ago. He graduated from M.I.T. when he was nineteen, with a doctorate in math and applied physics, and started his own company, Swann Communications. It was the world's largest producer of satellites in the 1970's. Swann had so much hardware in space that "Scientific American" dubbed him the Man of Tomorrow. Here's a quote, ' Only through communication will people live in peace.' I don't know, Lex, he sounds like he was one of the good guys. At least in the beginning."

Lex narrowed his eyes at his notes. "What happened?"

"He dropped out of sight. His company diversified, I don't have a full list of their holdings yet, and the rumor was that he devoted himself to searching for signs of intelligent life in the universe. He was in a car accident, and ended up a paraplegic in the late eighties."

"Did he ever marry? Have kids?"

"No. Single, and no known living family members. I suspect some charities are going to hit the jackpot with this one."

Tapping the pad of paper with his pen, Lex frowned. "Are you sure about the no kids? I have reason to believe there may have been a son."

"If there was one, Lex, Virgil Swann was never listed as the father on the birth certificate. Hey, you going to tell me what's going on?"

"I'm still trying to figure that out myself, Pete. I arrive here to talk to Swann, he dies and I end up getting some data discs, a schematic and a diary. In the meantime, Swann's so-called son disappears."

"So what is it with the son? Did he kill Swann?"

"No, the death looks like it was of natural causes. The guy was in bad shape when I saw him. The problem is, according to the medical personnel that took care of Swann, the son has something wrong with his blood. He gets it filtered every five or six days and they courier it to a lab for testing. That's how I found out. The courier showed up today, but no shipment."

"Because he's missing?"

"Right. One of the medical assistants was concerned, because if he could die if he doesn't show up for the filtering. It's not as if he didn't know, she said he'd been trained to take care of Swann, and the medical team was rarely called in, they were there for emergencies. She had heard that the son had saved Swann's life when he had a stroke a few years back. Up until then, Swann could talk and got around pretty well in spite of his paralysis. After the stroke, he couldn't talk except with a voice synthesizer and Kal took care of everything for him. They had almost no visitors."

"Kal?" Lex could hear the puzzlement in Pete's voice.

"Yeah, that's what she called the son. I met him, and talked with him for a few minutes, and he called himself Kal-El. He spelled it for me when I asked, K-A-L-dash-E-L. He gave me the stuff from Swann's safe, we took the elevator downstairs and the next thing I knew, he was gone."

"So what's he got? Bad kidneys?"

"She couldn't tell me. None of them knew. It wasn't the usual dialysis equipment that they used, Swann had it specially made for Kal. Pete, I have a bad feeling about this missing son that isn't a son."

"Why, Lex?"

"Because Kal-El looks exactly like a construct, in fact I thought he was one at first. If he's what I suspect he is, he could be in a lot of danger, not just from bad blood."

"In that case, Lex, you're not going to like what else I've found out so far on the list of names and dates."

"What?"

"Every person I've tracked down on the list is dead, Lex. They all died on the same date that's listed with their name. Every one."

"Great, that's not going to help me figure out what's going on. Keep checking, will you?"

"Yeah, no problem. What are you going to do about the son?"

"I can't have them put out an APB, he hasn't done anything wrong. We just have to hope he shows up before he gets too sick. They said he's only got a week to ten days, from what they were told. I'm about done here, so I'm heading back tomorrow. I can get the rest from you then. In the meantime, you might want to check with the Smallville police. If the constructs all head there, maybe Kal will too. They'll know it's him because he isn't tattooed."

"Will do. I'll give them a call. Talk to you tomorrow."

"Later."

Lex turned off his phone and stared at the notes he'd taken before he pulled out the diary again. Flipping to the page that had caught his attention that morning, he read the words again, the words almost too incredible to believe.

June 16, 1989 Finally able to translate signal received. Mathematical key built-in. It says, "This is Kal-El of Krypton. Our infant son, our last hope. Please protect him and deliver him from evil." I need to determine the trajectory and possible landing site as soon as possible.

Standing up, Lex walked to the window and pulled back the drapes to look up into the sky. The first stars were appearing, difficult to make out due to the lights of the city. Lex stood there, silent, desperately wanting to believe it was true, afraid that it was. The final words haunted him.

October 18, 1989 Team dispatched to calculated landing site in Kansas and advised of projected time of arrival. Advised not to alert local authorities and to await further instructions for detention of any survivors found on landing.

. . .

 

"Anything?"

"No, nothing yet. We haven't been able to find anybody who's seen him. New York's a big city."

"I don't care if you have to go door-to-door. Find him, *alive*, or you'll be one who goes missing. Understood?"

"Yeah, I got it."

. . .

 

The red-haired trucker pulled to a stop under the bright lights of the travel plaza. He looked across at his sleeping passenger and smiled, reluctant to wake him. They'd chatted for hours, well he'd talked and Clark listened. Fumbling behind his seat, he pulled out a vinyl case and unzipped it. Reaching in, he pulled out a digital camera, and focused it on the highlighted features across from him. It was impossible for him to resist the opportunity to capture the stunning planes and angles of the young man's face in repose. He took several shots at different angles before he engaged the flash.

At the first burst of light, Kal-El awoke with a start, looking around in green-eyed confusion, which Olsen caught in a series of rapid clicks and flashes. "What...what are you doing?" A memory of white-coated people standing around a table while lights flashed made Kal-El's muscles clench in fear and his breathing erratic.

Lowering the camera, Olsen smiled apologetically. "I'm just taking your picture, I hope you don't mind. You looked perfect under the lights like that, Clark. Have you ever considered being a model?"

Relaxing after he recognized where he was, and who was talking, Kal-El shook his head in confusion. "A model? What is that?"

"It's...someone that dresses up in clothes or stands next to cars to help sell them, shows up in ads in magazines or on television, you know, a model."

Still not sure what his new friend was talking about, Kal-El shook his head again. "No, I'm not a model. Should I be?"

"You should definitely consider it, Clark. You'd make enough money that you wouldn't be walking across the countryside anymore; you'd be riding in something hot and sweet instead. Man, I could break into the business big with someone like you. Are you interested?"

Kal-El was reluctant to disappoint his friend, but he knew that he couldn't delay his journey. "I need to go west. I do not think I have time to be a model now."

Olsen's smile faded a little before he brightened again. "It's okay, I understand. You have things to do right now. If you ever change your mind..." he dug in the case and came up with a small white card, "...just call me." He handed the card to Clark who held it under the light coming from outside the truck.

"James Olsen, Photographer, Metropolis, Kansas 711-322-1234." Kal-El read the card aloud and looked up. "This is your name, and how to contact you?" At Olsen's nod, he ventured a smile and tucked the card into the front of his backpack. "Thank you, James."

Olsen shook his head and laughed. "It's Jimmy, remember? The James is just for business."

"Thank you, Jimmy. Will you be driving some more now?"

"I need a break and some food, maybe a shower. Interested?"

Kal-El studied the smiling face across from him and nodded, pleased. "Yes, I'm hungry. Food would be good, and I would like to take a shower, also. Can we do that here?"

"Sure, all we have to do is pay our money and wait for our number to be called. We can get food while we're waiting." The redhead pulled the keys out of the ignition and opened his door. "C'mon, let's go. I'm starving."

Grabbing his backpack, Kal-El opened his door and jumped down lightly. Closing the door carefully, he walked around the back of the truck to meet Olsen and they entered the bright, busy plaza together.

. . .

 

Olsen muttered a curse and yanked the truck to a shuddering halt before jumping down from the cab. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a cell phone and punched in a few digits as he ran forward into the red-painted fog. He felt, rather than saw, his passenger run past him in the same direction. The screaming that came from the tangle of metal in front of them made him shiver as he barked their location into the phone, leaving the connection open as the 911 operator requested. Tucking the open phone in his shirt pocket, he joined Clark who was looking for a way into the center of multiple car collision where the screaming had subsided to broken moans of "my babies...my babies...." There were other, stronger voices, too, but Clark seemed single-minded, focused on reaching the middle.

With the sound of rending, screeching metal, the last two cars shifted, leaving Olsen open-mouthed in shock as he watched Clark moved them to one side. When he had freed the car he was headed for, Clark grabbed the nearest door and wrenched it off its hinges, leaving it dangling while he ducked inside, emerging holding two young children who were crying for their mother. Olsen shook himself out of his daze and moved forward to take them from Clark, who handed them off carefully before returning to the car. Another screech of metal and the passenger-side door was gone, allowing Clark to crawl inside to reach the driver who was pinned. The sound of sirens broke through the babble of voices as people emerged from other parts of the wreckage, gathering to tally their injuries, and Olsen comforted the children in his arms, while a miracle saved their mother.

. . .

 

"I'm telling you, Chloe, I've never seen anything like it. The guy just ripped through the metal like it was paper!" Pacing back and forth across the pavement, Olsen babbled into the phone, his voice rising with his excitement. The urgency in his words reached Kal-El a few yards away, where he stood holding one of the boys he had rescued, observing the EMT who was working on their mother. Kal-El's eyes grew concerned as he listened, and when several police officers approached to start taking statements, he handed the boy to another bystander, and began to back away into the edges of the crowd. He measured the distance to his friend's truck, and weighed the danger of discovery over the loss of his backpack, ultimately deciding that the money he'd kept with him would have to be enough to get him to where he was headed. With a sigh, he melted into the darkness at the side of the road and ran, leaving behind the man who was excitedly shouting into his phone about 'exclusives' and 'photographs.'

. . .

 

"Shit!" The red-haired man looked at the backpack dangling from his hand, and spun around in place, searching the darkness for any sign of his passenger. After giving his statement to the police, Olsen wanted to get back on the road, but the potential loss of his exclusive left him indecisive, hoping that Clark would somehow reappear from the shadows. After a few more minutes, he shrugged and climbed back into his truck, heading for the nearest town where he could upload the photos he'd taken, and send them to his connection at the Metropolis Daily Planet, Chloe Sullivan. Those pictures, and the story about Clark Luthor that went with them, might just be what finally got him hired on staff, and out of the freelance business.

. . .

 

The sound of his wakeup call broke into Lex's nightmare, leaving him with impressions but no real memory of what he'd dreamed. After hanging up the phone, he picked up the octagon that sat on the table by the bed and weighed it in his hand. Closing his eyes, he attempted to summon the memories left behind by his restless night, convinced the octagon was at the center, but never moved beyond a set of beautiful, green eyes. Annoyed that he couldn't get Kal-El out of his head long enough to think of anything else, he tossed the octagon onto the bed and stalked into the bathroom to take his shower.

He had an early appointment at VS Biotech about the genetic material supplied to Cadmus, and then he could return to Metropolis and pick up the threads of his investigation. He hoped Pete would have the rest of the information ready for him by then, and that he'd finally get some answers to his questions about what Swann had done with what he'd found, all those years ago.

. . .

 

"You look pretty beat. Need a refill?"

Kal-El looked up into kind, brown eyes, then at the carafe poised over his coffee cup. Remembering what he had learned from his friend, Jimmy, he smiled and looked at the tag on the waitress' uniform before answering, "No, thank you, Lana. I've had enough."

Setting the carafe down on the table, the dark-haired woman smiled and reached into the pocket of her uniform for his check, which she slid across to him. "Well, if you don't mind me saying, you really shouldn't be traveling, as tired as you look. You should think about taking a break and getting some sleep." She looked up and out of the window next to Kal-El's booth. "Where's your truck, anyway?"

Kal-El shook his head. "I don't have a truck."

Lana made an exasperated sound. "Car, then. Where'd you park? The lot's empty and you're my only customer, right now."

"I walked."

"Walked? From where? We're thirty miles from the nearest town and an hour and a half outside of St. Louis. We only pick up business from the interstate and the locals, and I know all the locals."

"I..."

Taking pity on the young man's obvious distress, Lana patted his hand and smiled. "It's okay, we get hitchhikers, too. You want a room? You really do look like you need to rest."

"A room?" Kal-El's confusion was apparent.

"Yeah, my aunt and I own the Lang Motel across the street, too, and we have a vacancy. Thirty bucks a night, air-conditioning, cable television, full bath, two double beds. Well?"

The word 'bed' cleared up the mystery for Kal-El. "A place to sleep?"

"Uh hunh, and honey, you obviously need it. You're completely out of it, aren't you?"

Nodding in agreement, Kal-El stood and followed the woman to the register where he paid for his meal and the room, accepting a key and the directions to his room before stumbling across the street to the waiting bed. Pushing his way inside the room, he kicked off his shoes and opened the drapes to let the early morning sunshine in before falling into the nearest bed, asleep before his head hit the pillow.

. . .

 

Handing the fare and a generous tip to the driver, Lex exited the cab quickly, reaching back inside to grab the small overnight bag containing his unforeseen purchases and the items he'd received from Swann. Turning to walk into the airport, his attention was drawn by the street performer a few feet away, who declaimed in a dramatic voice, "If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that." Bowing at the scattered applause, the young man picked up a violin and began to play, nodding in thanks as his audience dropped coins in his open case.

Standing in the line to check-in, Lex replayed the performer's lines, from 'The Merchant of Venice', over in his mind, and mused on the coincidence. The information he'd received at VS Biotech only strengthened his conviction that the constructs, Kal-El, and the message Swann had received just before the meteor shower struck Smallville, Kansas were all related, and that LuthorCorp was quite possibly involved in some very unethical practices. If he was right, the prejudice that Shylock had dealt with in Shakespeare's drama was nothing compared to the horrors he was uncovering.

Sitting down with his boarding pass in hand, Lex pulled out his notepad where he'd recorded the information that the filtered blood that the VS Biotech courier picked up from Swann Towers for 'testing,' was instead processed using chemicals and equipment supplied by Hamilton Technology. The resulting material was then shipped to Cadmus Labs for 'research purposes,' the details unknown by anyone at VS Biotech. At each link of the chain he was building, no one could tell Lex where their part of the process had begun or what was going to happen to the result after it left their hands. It was a perfect setup, a double, no, a triple blind, and Lex wondered if there was anyone who understood what was happening end-to-end. Hearing his name, Lex looked up just in time to catch a news segment displayed on the television suspended above the airport lounge.

A young mother trapped after a multiple vehicle collision, just east of St. Louis on I-70, owes her life to an angel of mercy who disappeared before she could thank him. Clark Luthor, whose photo you see here, courtesy of James Olsen, a photographer with the Metropolis Daily Planet who witnessed the rescue, managed to move several vehicles out of the way in order to reach Melissa Ender's crushed car, freeing her and her two young sons before rescue equipment could arrive. Mr. Olsen stated that the strength that Mr. Luthor displayed was 'like something right out of a caped crusader comic book or movie,' and that he showed no signs of fatigue or injury after the rescue. All efforts to locate the mysterious superman have failed, and anyone who has seen him is being urged to contact the Daily Planet at 1-800-544-3221 with any information, so that he can receive the recognition he deserves.

Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, Lex hit speed-dial, waiting impatiently for it to connect. He started talking the minute Pete answered. "It's Lex. Turn on the news. It's him, and he's definitely headed for Smallville, and I think I know why, but I need to check out some data disks and possibly talk to Julian before I say anything for sure."

"Yeah, well, I have a lead on one of the names on the list, and I'm headed out there now. I'll call you when I find out any details, okay?"

"Yeah, thanks. My flight doesn't leave for another two hours, so I'll be here, waiting."

. . .

 

"Mom!"

The noise just outside his room woke Kal-El who rolled over in bed and blinked at the bright sunshine that came streaming in through the window and warmed his skin wherever it touched. He stretched luxuriously, appreciating the comfort of the mattress after sleeping on the ground and in a moving truck the previous two nights. The few hours he'd slept lying in the sun had left him energized, and he bounded into the bathroom to relieve himself before putting his shoes back on and exiting the room.

"I told you to be careful. It's stuck up there and there's nothing I can do about it." A door slammed further down the row of rooms as Kal-El walked out of his, and he saw a young boy standing a few feet away, looking up at the roof with tears in his eyes.

Kal-El couldn't stand seeing a child in distress. "What's wrong?"

Pointing up, the boy whimpered, "My ball. It's stuck."

Looking where the boy had pointed, Kal-El saw a white ball lodged in the gutter that ran along the front of the motel, about ten feet above the ground. Walking over to stand just beneath its location, he reached up and jumped, catching the edge of the roof and pulling himself up enough to grab the ball. Letting go, he dropped back down lightly, and with a dazzling smile, handed the ball to the open-mouthed boy.

"Wow, thanks!" The boy looked at the ball in his hand, and then back up at Kal-El before scampering down to the room where he was staying. As Kal-El crossed the street to the diner, he could hear the boy's excited cries behind him. "Mom, Mom, guess what! He got it down for me! You should have seen it...it was like he flew!"

. . .

"Chloe, what do you know about this Clark Luthor guy?" Throwing herself into the chair by the petite blonde's desk, the taller woman leaned forward eagerly. "I'd swear he looks just like the guy I've been trying to track down on that tip from Nixon."

Looking up from her laptop, Chloe shook her head. "I don't have anything more than what you read in the paper, Lois. He's a good-looking Samaritan who didn't hang around for thanks. Jimmy brought it to me because he knows I've always been interested in the strange and unusual after the year I spent in Smallville, when my dad was working for Hamilton Tech."

Lois shrugged, losing interest. "Yeah, I guess it really couldn't be the same guy. Going from working in an S&amp;M club frequented by a certain senator, to saving people, does seem like a stretch. Never mind." Getting up, she waved goodbye and headed down the hall to her office.

Chloe watched her go with a wry grin. "You're welcome, Lois, anytime." Looking back down at her laptop, she started typing again while murmuring about men with super strength and photographers who were born lucky.

. . .

 

"Did you see the news?"

"Yeah, they're headed there now."

"Find him and make sure no one sees them when they pick him up. Having his face plastered all over the news is the worst thing that could have happened. We might have to shut down for a while and let things die down."

"That's going to cost...."

"I know, but we can't afford to get the wrong people interested. Just find him."

. . .

 

Looking up when the bell over the door rang, Lana hurried to meet Kal-El. "I was just going to come and check on you." Catching him by his elbow, she steered him to a back booth, urging him to sit. "We need to talk. I've seen the news."

Kal-El gave her a puzzled look. "The news?"

Sitting down across from him, Lana reached out and covered Kal-El's hand with one of hers. "Look, I can understand not wanting all the aggravation that comes with reporters and television cameras. I had more enough of that before my aunt moved us here. One idiot even had a necklace made and gave it to me saying something about having something beautiful come out of the ugly thing that happened. My aunt threw it away."

Kal-El shook his head slowly. "I don't understand."

Lana's face grew sad. "For years after my parents were killed, reporters would come and interview me about how I felt about seeing them crushed right in front of me by a meteor. It was awful."

"Meteors? Where?" Kal-El sat up straighter, all his attention on the woman in front of him.

Lana shrugged. "Smallville in Kansas. So, anyway, I'd like to help you. I..."

Kal-El interrupted, "How would I get to Smallville, please? It is very important."

Startled, Lana studied Kal-El a moment before answering. "Okay, I can drive you to the bus station in town, but first we need to make sure no one can recognize you."

. . .

 

Sitting at the back of the bus as Lana had told him to do, Kal-El pulled the red baseball cap she had given him down low, shielding his eyes. His head felt curiously lighter after the haircut she had given him, the hair that had once touched his shoulders now curling above his ears. She'd also given him a pair of glasses to wear, as well as a new shirt and jacket after she noticed that blood from the accident had stained his at the cuffs. Touching his cheek where she'd kissed him goodbye, Kal-El turned his face into the sun that came in through the bus window. He closed his eyes, thought of all the kind people who had helped him on his journey, and smiled as his breathing slowed and he drifted to sleep.

 

. . .

 

"Chloe, can you take a look at these pictures Nixon sent over? Something's not right." Frowning at a set of photos she was carrying, Lois came over to Chloe's desk and sat on the edge. Looking up, she noticed she was being ignored while the other woman busily packed away her laptop. "Hey, where you going?"

"No time to talk, Lois. Got a hot tip about that Luthor guy just outside St. Louis, got a plane to catch. Later." The blonde reporter was on the elevator and heading down before Lois could say a word.

"Sure, Chloe, I'll just find someone else to look at them." She flipped back and forth between two photos muttering to herself. "Senator and pretty boy getting into car outside club. Pretty boy and senator getting into car outside club. So, what is it? Same club...same car...okay...same senator. Wait a minute, same senator, same pretty boy? There's someone behind...you're kidding! Same senator, two pretty boys getting in the car...one before the senator...one after. And they both look like that Luthor guy. What the hell is going on?"

. . .

 

"Well, I'm sorry to hear the senator broke his new toys, Victoria, but I'm afraid there won't be any new specials available for a while. No, I don't know for how long, but when and if I do come up with some, I'm afraid the price is going up, way up. No, Victoria, I'm not working with someone else. You're my only dealer, but I'm the one taking the risks here, and it's getting very expensive. Yes, yes, I'll let you know." Hanging up the phone, Garner sat back in his chair, and steepled his fingers under his chin. He was going to have to pull in some of the constructs early and fake their decommission in order to fill Victoria's more ordinary orders, but skimming off the top for specials just got more difficult with the shipments from VS Biotech stopped until further notice. Frowning, he pulled the phone toward him, and started making some calls.

. . .

 

Staring at the information scrolling past on his laptop, Lex grew angrier by the minute. The diary that had ended so abruptly, resumed on the disk he was reading, and it told a story of human greed and lust for knowledge that ignored basic human rights. Swann had to have been insane to believe he could protect his discovery by himself, conceal it from the rest of the world. Yet, he'd managed to do just that with a few notable exceptions. Starting with a message predicting the landing of an alien craft, followed by the capture of a small, ostensibly male, being, Swann had kept the presence of an alien life-form on Earth a secret from the government, as well as the rest of the world, until now.

Swann claimed to fear that the government would handle the first contact badly, so he used his considerable resources to put together a small team of scientists and a remote facility to study the life-form in secure surroundings, safe from harm or discovery. Unfortunately, the day before the meteor strike was the same day Swann was struck by a car, right after exiting Grand Central Station. In a coma for months, Swann was not there to oversee his team's tests, and the results were catastrophic for the small being in their custody.

Details of surgical explorations, tests of endurance for heat, cold and lack of oxygen, notations on enhanced healing all told of a brand of torture that would never be acceptable for humans. Swann's fury was only tempered by his physical limitations, and the project was shut down and the scientists' silence bought with a combination of threats and money. The being known as Kal-El, was released from its...his cell and taken to live with Swann, with no further testing beyond regular blood and urine samples.

Fearing exposure, Swann restricted Kal-El to the tower penthouse and kept him deliberately ignorant of human interaction beyond that needed for everyday life. Kal-El was dependent on Swann for everything, his education, food, clothing, and companionship. Swann believed he'd succeeded in 'protecting' his discovery until the day he was contacted by the researcher who had been processing the 'blood' samples taken from Kal-El. Without Swann's knowledge, the researcher had been experimenting and had discovered new structures in the latest samples. He had been successful stimulating growth within the structures, and he was convinced that he could create clones, with the right equipment. Swann was horrified at the liberties the researcher had taken, and immediately shut his experiments down. No longer convinced that he could trust any of his former team, he made arrangements to have them all eliminated, including the researcher.

Lex now knew what the list of names and dates stood for, and who was responsible.

Unfortunately, Swann hadn't counted on his resource taking the time to investigate the reason for the assassinations. The researcher had talked. The result was blackmail, and Kal-El's life was held in the balance. It had been made very clear to Swann that all of the information on Kal-El and the murders would be sent to some very dangerous associates if Swann attempted to eliminate the blackmailer. In addition, it was noted that Kal-El would be quite able to continue to supply the necessary element even after a lobotomy had been performed, so it was in Swann's best interest to arrange for regular shipments.

The only thing that stood between Kal-El, and a brain-damaged existence, was Swann's recording of the meeting to discuss the list of names and what was to be done with it. Swann had made sure the blackmailer knew he'd carefully made similar arrangements to release the recording to the authorities on his death.

Kal-El had been told that he was ill, and needed his blood filtered regularly, and Swann continued to deprive him of the sunlight that his team had discovered would have given Kal-El the strength and speed to escape. That was how their lives continued for years, until the entries stopped, just before the date of Swann's stroke.

Lex looked at the final entry, appalled at the implications. LuthorCorp was intrinsically involved in exploiting an extraterrestrial, complicit in his imprisonment, and potentially responsible for genocide if they had truly managed to clone him. Why had Swann trusted him, a Luthor? The only reason he could come up with was desperation. Swann had known he was dying, and that Kal-El would be in danger. He took a chance on a stranger, someone who'd walked in and accused him of being responsible for terrible deeds, and hoped he'd care for Kal-El. Unfortunately for both of them, Lex had managed to fail at that almost immediately.

He needed to talk to Julian as soon as possible, and he prayed that his brother was not involved in this...mess. It was too late to believe that his mother hadn't been.

. . .

 

"Lex, I've got bad news."

"What is it, Pete? I'll let you go first."

"Those names? They all worked for Swann years ago, some top-secret project that no one can tell me anything about. And the name that goes with the phone number is..."

"Morgan Edge."

"How'd you know! I just had a hell of a lot old phone records checked to find that. And it turns out that he's been arrested, charged with conspiracy to commit murder, something about a recording that got sent in."

"That's really good to hear, Pete. I just read Swann's data disks, and it's not pretty. I've got to talk to Julian. I'm on my way over there now. I have a feeling I'm going to need to talk to Edge, too. Have you heard anything on Kal-El...I mean Clark Luthor, or whatever he's calling himself now? Anything from Smallville?"

"Nothing, but I talked to Kyla, and she's going to keep an eye out, too. It'd be easier if we could put out an APB."

"No. Really bad idea, Pete. That's the last thing Kal-El needs. I'm going to head out there in the morning, if we haven't heard anything by then. I've got some other things to check out while I'm there. Call me."

"You got it. Good luck with Julian."

. . .

 

"So tell me why we're here again, Lois?" The red-haired man carrying the camera stopped in front of the building's front doors, and frowned at the tall brunette in front of him.

Placing her hands on her hips, Lois huffed back, "The anonymous tip called in on Clark Luthor said we should check out Cadmus Labs, and that we'd find out there was more to him that we might expect. You're here as backup, Jimmy, considering I had to drop a certain senator's name to get an interview. There is definitely something strange going on with this guy, or guys, because I think there's more than one, and I'm going to break the story."

"And I guess I'm going to take the pictures."

. . .

 

Walking into the Lang Diner, the petite blonde nodded to the dark-haired woman behind the counter before sliding into a booth. Smoothing down her pink apron, the waitress walked up, ready to take an order. "What can I get you?"

Glancing at the name tag pinned to the apron, the blonde smiled. "A cup of coffee to start, Lana." Glancing up at the television hanging from the ceiling in the corner, she pointed at the screen. "Isn't that something about that guy? He sounds amazing." She watched as Lana flinched before she tucked her hair behind one ear and smiled.

"Really? I haven't really paid attention. I'll get you that coffee."

As Chloe watched the waitress hurry back behind the counter, one blonde eyebrow raised high over a smug smile. "Gotcha."

. . .

 

"Hey buddy, where you headed?"

Walking along the side of the road, hat and glasses off, face turned up to the sun, Kal-El startled at the voice coming from behind him. He had been so entranced by the fresh air and sunshine that he hadn't noticed the police car that had pulled to the side of the road, until the officer spoke. Stopping, he looked around at the corn fields before pointing down the road. "I'm walking to Smallville."

Leaning up against the side of the car, arms folded across his chest, the officer smiled. "I see. Why don't you hop in and I'll give you a ride?"

Eyeing the gun on the officer's belt, and remembering the guns the security guards had pulled when he'd left the tower, Kal-El shook his head. "No, thank you. I would like to walk."

Straightening up, the officer dropped his hands to his sides and took a step towards Kal-El. "No, I think you should get in. Right now."

A squeal of brakes and a rattling cloud of dust announced the arrival of another vehicle. Kal-El watched as a dark-haired woman got out of a truck, and came towards them. She held up her hand in an offhand greeting. "Hey, officer. I see you found my cousin, Kal. I've been looking for him since I missed him at the bus stop."

Turning to the woman, the officer frowned. "You know this guy?"

"Well, yeah, that's what I just said. C'mon, Kal, it's me, Kyla. Let's get going." She gestured toward the truck, her dark eyes looking directly into Kal-El's.

The officer held up a hand. "Wait a minute. He looks just like one of them constructs we're supposed to take in when we find 'em."

Kyla laughed. "Really? He looks like my cousin to me. Besides, don't those constructs have a tattoo on their left arm? Show him, Kal, no tattoo, right?"

Kal-El looked between the officer and the woman, and raised his left arm to show that it was clear of any markings.

Disturbed, the officer frowned. "Well, that doesn't mean he ain't one of them 'specials' that showed up here once with no tattoo."

Kyla objected, "Listen, officer, has he done anything wrong?"

"No, I guess not." The confused man shook his head.

Kyla's smile was dazzling. "Then, can I just take him home? You can check at the station and come on out to the Willowbrook's if you find out anything. Okay?"

The officer slowly nodded. "I guess so. It's not like those constructs are dangerous or anything. We're just supposed to bring them in to get picked up by those lab guys."

"Good." Kyla took a few steps and carefully took Kal-El's arm, tugging gently. "C'mon, let's go, Kal."

Following docilely, Kal-El walked to the passenger side of the truck and got in, while Kyla ran around to the driver's side. Jumping in, she slammed the door and started the truck, pulling out while Kal-El was still trying to put on his seat belt like his friend Jimmy had told him. Glancing over at him, Kyla yelled over the sound of the noisy muffler, "I really hope your name is Kal-El, or I'm in trouble."

. . .

 

"Lois, this is Chloe. Sorry I missed you, hope you're out there tracking down the bad guys. I wanted to let you know I'm on my way back with some very interesting leads. Remember when my dad was working in Smallville, for Hamilton Tech? Well, guess where Clark Luthor is headed. That's right, the land of the weird and the home of the freak, courtesy of heavy metal pollution and the almighty dollar. It gets better. Guess who owns Hamilton Tech...never mind...I'll tell you who. LuthorCorp. The Luthors, Metropolis' very own royal family. Coincidence? I think not. My flight gets in late, so I'm going to head out there first thing in the morning. Later, cuz."

. . .

 

Pulling to a jerky halt under a tree, Kyla turned off the truck and turned to Kal-El, letting silence reign for a moment before she started talking. "Listen, I know you have no idea who I am, but believe me, I'm on your side. I'm the one who got Pete Ross and Inspector Luthor involved in all this in the first place. I'm trying to help."

Kal-El sat quietly in his seat, still buckled in, and studied the face of the woman sitting next to him. She had taken him away from the man with the gun, the police officer, and she reminded him of his friend Lana, who had helped him get to Smallville. In addition, she had mentioned Inspector Luthor, and Kal-El remembered the man with the smooth skin and blue eyes that had helped him leave the tower. He decided he could trust her with his real name and nodded carefully. "I am Kal-El. Where is Inspector Alexander Luthor? Is he here? May I see him?"

Kyla smiled in relief. "No, he's not here yet, but I bet he will be soon when he hears you've finally shown up. They've been pretty worried about you." She reached into the pack lying on the seat between them and pulled out a cell phone. "Let me call Pete and let him know I've got you, okay?"

Opening the phone, she dialed quickly. "Hey, Pete. It's Kyla. I've got him. He's right here with me now. Yeah, he looks okay, but I got to him right before a deputy tried to put him in his cruiser. It was a close call. The deputy tried to take him in anyway, even when we showed him Kal didn't have a tattoo. Yeah, he said something about a 'special', that's what he called it, a 'special' and I had to do some fast talking."

Kal-El had unbuckled himself while he waited. He looked out of the front windshield, curious about where Kyla had brought him. He saw a rocky hill with a dark hole in the side that looked large enough for him to walk into. As he looked at, he felt a rightness, something that drew him and he knew that it was where he was supposed to be, that his journey had ended. Opening the door, he got out of the truck and started walking toward it slowly, paying no attention to the woman who was pulling on his arm and saying something about waiting.

"Hey, Pete, I've got to go. He wants to go in the caves, and there's no way I'm going to be able to stop him. We'll check it out together before it starts raining here, then I'll take him home with me. We'll see you tomorrow morning, early. Bye." Flipping her phone shut, Kyla tucked it in her pocket, and followed the determined young man into the dark cave.

. . .

 

Looking up as his office door opened, Julian smiled, his blue eyes twinkling at the sight of his older brother. He got up and came around his desk quickly to pull Lex into a hug. "Lex, what a surprise! I can't remember the last time you visited me at the office." Gesturing to the leather sofa, Julian walked over to the bar and poured himself a drink, holding up the decanter in a silent query. Lex shook his head and Julian nodded, setting it back down and carried his tumbler with him as he sat in the chair across from Lex. After taking a sip, he smiled again. "So what brings you here? Come to whisk me off to an early dinner?"

Lex looked down at his clasped hands dangling between his knees as he sat on the edge of his seat. Sighing, he looked back up with a frown. "I wish it was something that easy, Julian. I have to ask you some questions about LuthorCorp holdings."

Julian set his tumbler down on the table beside his chair. "You're starting to worry me, Lex. What could be so grim?"

"Julian, what do you know about Cadmus Labs?"

Julian tilted his head and raised a quizzical brow. "Cadmus Labs? What should I know?"

Lex pursed his lips and studied Julian's face. "LuthorCorp owns them."

Julian shrugged. "LuthorCorp owns a lot of companies, Lex. I'm still trying to get a handle on all of our subsidiaries. Can you give me some details? Wait, better yet...." He got up and pressed the button on his intercom. "Dominic, can you come in here?"

The office door opened and Julian's personal assistant entered. "Sir?"

Julian waved him closer. "Dominic, what can you tell me about Cadmus Labs? It's one of our subsidiaries according to my brother."

Dominic thought for a moment before answering. "Cadmus. They're research and development, mostly concerned with medical software and firmware and equipment. They're one of..."

"What about the constructs?" interrupted Lex, "What can you tell me about the people they're cloning there?"

Dominic looked surprised at Lex's vehemence. "Cloning? They do produce short-term biological constructs. They're used to assist or replace lab techs and nurses in hazardous conditions and are classified as equipment. That's all I know, sir."

"Thank you, Dominic, that'll be all for now." Julian dismissed his assistant and waited for the door to close behind him before turning back to Lex. "What is all this, Lex? Cloning people? Is that even legal?"

Lex started to answer when his cell phone rang. Excusing himself, he answered it. "Hello, Pete? What is it? I'm talking to Julian right now. Oh, he is? Good, I'll drive out there first thing tomorrow. What? A 'special' without a tattoo? All right, thanks for letting me know. I'll talk to you later." Placing the phone back in his jacket pocket, Lex looked up at Julian who was waiting patiently. "I'm sorry, I've been waiting for that call. It turns out to be related to all this anyway."

Lex stood and walked to the window and looked out over the city, hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Julian, there's no easy way to say this. I think Mother was involved in cloning...people and using the clones for hazardous work and possibly even having them killed after a certain amount of time. She had to have known what was happening at Cadmus Labs, it's been going on for years."

"Lex? Are...are you serious?"

Lex could hear the distress in his brother's voice, and when he turned around, saw it echoed in his face. He hurried to his side. "Julian. It's a mess. Morgan Edge has been arrested, he's involved in it too, and LuthorCorp is going to end up in the middle of a murder investigation. You need to shut everything down at Cadmus right away and get ready for it."

Julian shook his head in disbelief, eyes wide with shock. "I don't understand, Lex. Shut everything down? There are a lot of jobs at stake, and shareholders...I can't just shut things down with investigating first, making sure what you're saying...is really happening and not just an unfounded rumor or...a mistake. And how can you be sure Mother was involved?"

Lex winced. 'I don't want to believe it, but it's too big for her not to have known. She handled everything...you know that. There wasn't anything that went on in LuthorCorp that she didn't have something to say about, she ruled this place." He rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing. "I pulled everything on file at Cadmus, but the signed authorizations are stored here at corporate headquarters. You'll have to have them pulled so we can look them over."

Julian nodded, his face serious. "I'll have my staff start working on them right away. It's going to take a while."

"I know." Lex sighed, "I've got to drive out to Smallville tomorrow morning, but I should be back by late afternoon. I'll come by then. You can call me if something comes up in the meantime."

"What's in Smallville?"

Lex looked at his brother for a moment before turning away to walk toward the door. "Some unfinished business and a...friend that I have to talk to about...their future. I'll see you, tomorrow, Julian."

"Tomorrow."

The minute the door closed behind his brother, all expression dropped from Julian's face. Opening his desk drawer, he pulled out a small book and flipped through it until he found what he was looking for. Picking up the phone, he dialed quickly, smiling when he heard a voice on the other end of the line. "Your Honor, this is Julian Luthor. I'm fine, thank you for asking, although I do miss my mother. Yes, she was a wonderful woman. I am wondering, sir, if you could do me a favor. It seems a former associate of my mother's has been arrested. I'm sure it's all a terrible misunderstanding and I'd like to make sure he's released on bail as soon as possible, tonight perhaps. His name? Edge. Morgan Edge."

. . .

 

Furious, Garner picked up his phone and barked into it, "Yes!" He blinked at the answer and his face paled. "But Mr. Luthor, if we shut down...yes...no...I'm not sure what you're asking...I've never heard of a 'special'...yes...immediately...Mr. Luthor, there were reporters here...no, I didn't tell them anything...of course...." Placing the phone carefully back in the cradle, Garner sat at his desk, silent, thinking.

Reaching a decision, he picked up the phone again and dialed an internal number. "Harris, recall every unit immediately. Decommission and destroy them as soon as they arrive. Shut down all in-progress units and destroy them. That's right, decommission and destroy everything. It needs to be done as of yesterday."

. . .

The darkness in the cave was absolute, frustrating Kal-El until Kyla walked up behind him, carrying a large flashlight. She handed him a second one, showing him how to turn it on. Excited, Kal-El hurried forward, advancing to another hole in the far wall and stepping into a chamber with a high ceiling, a hole in the center of it letting the remaining faint light of the sunset. He stopped just inside the entrance, and Kyla moved beyond him, shining her light around the walls before stopping on a crudely painted figure. She pointed to it as she began to speak.

"We didn't know these were here until there was a rockfall that opened it up. It was caused by someone who looked a lot like you." With her back to Kal-El, she failed to see his startled jerk as she moved the light to another pictograph. "One of the Kawatche prophecies says that the god Numan would fall from the skies in a rain of fire. He would have the strength of ten men and be able to start fires with his eyes." Looking back over her shoulder at Kal-El, she laughed. "It's kind of hard to believe in that sort of thing, these days."

Kal-El flinched, startled when another came out of the darkness behind him. "The same legend claims that a man came from the stars and fell in love with the mother of our people, the Kawatche. He flew back into the sky after promising another would come, Numan." Walking into the light, an older man with long gray hair smiled. "That was over five hundred years ago, and I think he's bit overdue." Turning to Kal-El, he held up his hand in greeting. "I'm Professor Joseph Willowbrook."

"Grandfather, you startled me!" Kyla moved the few steps separating them and hugged him before stepping back. She indicated Kal-El who had been silently observing the two. "This is...Kal, the one I mentioned? He's very interested in the cave."

Kal-El looked between the two and nodded slowly. "I would like to see more, please."

Kyla smiled, and resumed pointing the paintings with her flashlight. "What's really interesting are these symbols. The Kawatche don't have a written language, so it's odd to find them here with Kawatche paintings." Her light stopped on an odd two-headed creature. "This is supposed to represent Numan and Segeth, who's supposed to be like a brother to Numan." Walking to the wall, she touched the painting lightly. "The legend claims they'll fight, and will be the balance between good and evil, each other's greatest enemy."

Kal-El, who had turned his light to join Kyla's, came closer. "What is that?" He pointed to another partially visible figure below it, with a bluish square near it.

Pulling back her sleeve, Kyla showed Kal-El an intricately engraved silver cuff with a square-cut turquoise mounted in the center. "It's supposed to represent Numan's beloved. The woman he's destined to be with forever will wear the bracelet. It's been handed down through the women in my family for generations. It's sort of romantic, if you think about it."

Frowning, Kal-El walked to the wall and squatted down to look closer. "It doesn't look like the symbol for woman," he muttered absently. Reaching out, he pulled back on the large piece of stone obscuring the painting and moved it away with no effort, exposing the rest of the symbol, and a niche that seemed to have been carved into the wall. He paid no attention to the gasp of surprise from Kyla.

An angry voice intruded on the three. "Why are you letting him move things around in here, destroying our heritage!"

Standing quickly, Kal-El placed himself in front of Kyla and her grandfather, shielding them from the young man with long, dark hair who emerged from the shadows with his fists clenched in anger.

"Jeremiah?" Kyla's voice was puzzled. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same." Jeremiah frowned. "I came with the Professor. I was covering the truck bed, because of the rain; otherwise, I would have been in here to stop him."

Patting Kal-El's arm, Kyla urged him to move out of the way, so she could talk to Jeremiah more easily. Kal-El, recognizing that Jeremiah was no immediate threat to his friends, resumed looking at the walls. An indentation surrounded by colored symbols drew him closer.

Jeremiah was still upset. "Isn't it enough that we constantly have to fight for our rights, for our own land? We can never relax our vigilance, or the Luthors will come and take away our land, and poison it just as they did theirs. Now, you have strangers coming here, and you allow them to desecrate our past, our holy ground?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, Joseph rumbled at the young man, "Jeremiah Holdsclaw, your behavior is unreasonable. There has been no damage done."

Shaking his head in disagreement, Jeremiah walked over to where Kal-El had moved the rock, and peered into the niche. "There's something in here." He looked up at Kyla. "Can you shine the light in here?" Reaching in, he pulled out a stone resembling a loaf of bread with a handle at the end. "Unbelievable."

While Kyla and Joseph examined Jeremiah's find, Kal-El completed his examination of the regularly-shaped hole in the wall. He lowered the light slowly with his shoulders slumped in despair. It was the same size and shape as the key to his ship, the key he no longer had. His journey was not over, would not be over until he found the key again...or he died from his disease.

"It's the Palac, the Starblade, I know it!" Jeremiah held the object reverently. "It looks just as it was described."

Kyla laughed, mockingly, "Another five hundred-year-old legend. I suppose you think it'll give you the power to protect it until Numan arrives. Oh wait, you're going to use it to help you identify Segeth, Numan's greatest enemy. Legends, Jeremiah, old fairytales."

"Legend or not, we'll need to take this back to the university to be examined carefully," insisted Joseph. "Each artifact we find is a legacy for our people and not to be taken lightly."

Frustrated, Jeremiah set the object down and picked up a nearby rock. "Legends often hold a grain of truth, you know that, and our enemies are closing in." Raising his arm, he brought the rock down hard, shattering the object as Kyla and Joseph cried out in protest. A golden light seared the darkness and Jeremiah screamed, jerking spastically, as if he were being electrocuted. Suddenly, the light died, and Jeremiah lifted his hand high above his head, a golden, glowing dagger with a stone handle held tight. Lowering his hand, he stared at the artifact in his hand before looking up with a fanatic gleam in his eye. Backing away from others, he turned and ran from the cave, his movements too fast for the human eye to follow.

Kyla looked at her grandfather in horror and disbelief. "What just happened? I...." She stopped herself, and looked over her shoulder. "Kal?" Not seeing him where she expected, she spun around, checking the corners with her flashlight. "Kal!" Water starting spattering on the cave floor as the rain blew in through the hole in the ceiling. She hurried from the chamber, calling out Kal's name repeatedly, until she reached the entrance where she stood peering out through the downpour, her missing charge nowhere to be seen in the lightning-filled darkness.

. . .

 

Yanking on his tie and loosening his collar with one hand, Lex fumbled with his keys as he attempted to enter the mansion in the dark. After he'd left Julian's office, he'd thought about getting something to eat, but the fatigue that had been hovering over him for the last several hours killed any appetite he might have summoned. Finally managing to negotiate the lock and the alarm system, Lex headed for his bedroom without bothering to turn on any lights, the occasional lightning flash outside providing enough visibility to climb the stairs.

Pulling off his damp clothes, he let them drop to the carpet, resolving to pick them up in the morning. Passing through the bedroom, he flipped on the bathroom lights unwilling to hazard his bare feet in the dark. A quick glance in the mirror over the sink halted him, and he shook his head at his reflection. "Shit, Pete would be all over me if he saw me like this." He gave himself a lop-sided grin. "Then again, he'd probably have something to say about me talking to myself." Too many days in a row with little to no sleep, and a diet consisting of coffee and the occasional sandwich, had left him shaking with exhaustion, his eyes sunken and dark. He frowned at the slightly disturbing thought that his brother Julian hadn't said a word about how he looked, when Lex knew Pete wouldn't have stayed quiet for more than a minute.

Shrugging, he relieved himself and washed up quickly, musing that not having to shave came in handy sometimes. Turning out the light, he shuffled wearily to his bed and sat on the edge to set his alarm, allowing himself just six hours of sleep. He wasn't comfortable with where he'd left Kal-El, let alone the whole, ugly situation with LuthorCorp, and the sooner he got out to Smallville, the better he'd feel. He'd leave right then, but he'd be a hazard on the road with the rain and his utter exhaustion. He could hear Pete in his head telling him not to be stupid and to get some sleep. Sliding under the covers, he laid back, closed his eyes, and sank into oblivion, remembering a pair of trusting green eyes.

. . .

 

Checking into Smallville's only motel, Chloe flopped back on the bed and stared up at the water-stained ceiling, listening to the rain pounding on the roof. She'd covered a lot of ground that day in pursuit of the elusive Clark Luthor and first thing in the morning, she was hitting that coffee shop she'd passed on the drive into town, and flashing Jimmy's photo around to see if she could pick up any leads. As her eyes closed, she murmured, "First thing in the morn...."

. . .

 

Arms held over his head, frightened as the lightning lit up the sky around him, Kal-El stumbled along the road in the dark, lost. He'd left the cave as the others were arguing, distressed at his failure. He'd walked away into the dark, not really knowing where he was headed, but needing to distance himself from the angry voices. He'd begun to run down the road, veering off to side when he reached the first crossroad.

Several turns later, Kal-El was no longer running, the heavy mud pulling at his shoes as he slogged along in the drenching rain. A low moaning sound at his side startled him just a lightning strike lit up the fence he was walking along, and the large creature that thrust its head toward him sent him flailing back, and crashing through the fence on the opposite side of the road. Another moan and he ran across the field, too frightened to think about anything but escape. He ran until a dark building loomed in front of him. Slowing, he noticed a large, open doorway and he quickly entered, thankful to be out of the rain, and away from the beast that had attacked him. Another flash of lightning showed a ladder going to a second level, and he quickly climbed it, deciding it was safer than the ground. Exhausted by his headlong flight, Kal-El laid down in the sweet-smelling, but slightly prickly mound of something, and fell asleep almost instantly.

. . .

 

A harsh, buzzing sound broke apart a dream owned by a thin, pale face. Brilliant, green eyes begged for something before they hid behind a fall of thick, dark hair. Lex blinked lazily in the dark room, body still lax from sleep, reluctant to move despite the demand of the alarm. The dream haunted him, Kal-El's trust broken in so many ways, even before they met. Not only had he left Kal-El alone, to deal with a world he knew little about, there was also Lex's careless ownership of a business built on alien blood. He still had so many questions about Kal-El's origins, his ship, the Kents and the octagon, and their future, his and Kal-El's. With fresh resolve, Lex forced himself upright and headed for his shower, determined to find Kal-El as soon as possible, and the answers.

. . .

 

"You look like something the cat dragged in." An amused voice broke into Kal-El's dream about pale, smooth skin and kind blue eyes. Scrubbing at his face and yawning, Kal-El looked up into a different set of blue eyes, faded but just as kind under grey-blond hair. "What are you doing here, son?"

Scrambling to his feet, Kal-El ducked his head shyly. "It was raining and dark...and something was out there. Something big." Peering up through the hair that shaded his eyes, Kal-El saw a smile on the man's oddly familiar face, and lifting his head, he ventured one of his own. "I'm sorry. I have money to pay for letting me sleep here, like the Lang Motel."

The man shook his head and patted Kal-El's shoulder. "No need for that, son. You're fine." He held out a hand that Kal-El took gingerly. "I'm Jonathan Kent. You ended up in my barn, not a motel." When Kal-El failed to introduce himself, Jonathan prompted, "And you are?"

Letting go of Jonathan's hand, Kal-El took a small step back. "Kal. I'm Kal."

Jonathan's eyes narrowed for a second before he nodded, still smiling. "Okay, Kal, pleased to meet you." Looking around the loft, his eyes returned to Kal-El, puzzled. "Do you have anything else with you? A backpack, maybe?"

Kal-El shook his head, remembering the one he'd had to leave behind. "No, nothing else." He reached into his pocket and pulled out several crumpled bills, offering them on his open palm. "I have money for what I need."

Smile fading a bit, Jonathan put his hand out and closed Kal-El's fingers around the bills. "Why don't you just come to the house with me, and we'll see what Martha has for breakfast, okay? I'll bet you're hungry, aren't you?"

Kal-El's stomach answered the question with a loud gurgle, startling a laugh from Jonathan. "I'll take that as a yes. C'mon." He walked over to the ladder and started climbing down, looking back up once. "C'mon, Kal. Everything's okay."

. . .

 

"Martha? We have a visitor." Jonathan called out to his wife as he held the door open for Kal-El to enter the warm kitchen. "I found him camped out in the barn. Kal says he got caught in the storm last night, and I think he could use one of your breakfasts."

Setting down the spatula she'd been using, a redheaded woman turned around at the stove, exclaiming in surprise at the sight of Kal-El. "You poor thing. Just sit right down, and I'll get you a cup of coffee." She bustled around opening cupboards and pulling dishes and mugs.

Still standing in the same place, Kal-El looked between the woman and the man several times before his slight frown lifted and a dazzling smile appeared. "I know you."

Paying attention to the coffee she was pouring, Martha hummed absently, "What's that, dear?" Mug full, she replaced the pot and looked up. "Cream? Sugar?"

Kal-El repeated himself, slowly. "I know you. You were there, with the boy."

Jonathan, who had been filling his own mug, looked up. "What's that? Are you one of David's friends?"

Taking the mug from Martha, Kal-El shook his head uncertainly. "Is David your son?"

Her smile lit the room. "Yes, he's our only son. He's a senior at Kansas State."

Jonathan took a seat at the table and smiled at his wife. "Full ride. Football scholarship, just like his old man."

"David Kent, correct?" Kal-El asked.

Jonathan nodded. "David Clark Kent. So, you know him?"

Kal-El shook his head. "No, but I remember him. I would like meet him again. He has something that he is keeping safe for me."

The sound of sizzling forced Martha's attention back to the stove. 'Oh gracious, I'd better get the eggs on and the pancakes, too. Jonathan, why don't you show..." She nodded at her visitor, "...Kal, is it?" She waved towards the next room with the spatula, "...where he can clean up and the food will be on the table in no time. After breakfast, we'll see about a shower and some clean clothes. You look big enough to fit into some of David's that he left here." She laughed. "I hope you don't mind plaid flannel."

. . .

 

Shuddering at the bitter liquid passing for coffee in Smallville's only coffee shop, Chloe scanned the customers standing in line, looking for a likely prospect. A jingle over the door heralded the entrance of a new possibility, and Chloe's smile widened when the deputy that walked in glanced her way in obvious interest. Ducking her head in faux shyness, she waited for the deputy to pick up his order and saunter over to her table.

"This seat taken?" The voice was pleasant enough, and Chloe looked up with wide eyes, flashed one of the smiles she'd been told were irresistibly cute, and waved a hand graciously. With an answering grin, the young man pulled out the chair and sat down. "Thanks, it's kind of busy. You're new around here, aren't you? Just visiting? I'm Matt Foster, by the way."

"Chloe. Chloe Sullivan. I'm in town...on business. Quiet little place."

Blowing softly across the brim of his cup, Matt nodded in agreement. "Yeah, not much goes on, peaceful. Of course, that makes my job sort of boring, sometimes."

Chloe commiserated. "I know what you mean. I'm stuck on this human interest assignment my editor came up with. I'd really rather be tracking down something a little more exciting."

Matt looked interested. "Editor? You a reporter? What's the story?"

"Just some guy that did a good deed, and then disappeared before anyone could say thanks." Chloe pretended to search her purse and pulled the photo she had ready. "Someone called the Daily Planet and said they'd seen him around here." She handed the picture. "Look familiar?"

In the middle of a sip, Matt choked. "Familiar? We get these things through here all the time. Wastes our time bringing them in so the lab can come pick them up." He tapped the picture with a finger. "A little different. Longer hair, not as tan, but definitely the same." A snort of laughter. "Of course, I thought I saw one yesterday, but he turned out to be someone's cousin come to visit."

Chloe tilted her head and frowned a little. "Then, there's more than one? Thing?"

"Yeah, those estees. They look human, but they're not. For some reason, they get mixed up and head to Smallville when they get loose. Let's see they called them...Short Term...Biological...that's it...Biological Constructs. S-T-B-C, estees, for short. The town charges the lab every time we pick one up, so I guess it all comes out even in the end." The walkie-talkie on his shoulder crackled to life, making him jump and spill his coffee. "Damn, I have to get this."

Thumbing the receiver, he barked into it. "Foster, over."

The voice on the other end rasped, "Foster, get your ass over to Hamilton Tech, now. There's some crazy breaking up the place."

Jumping up from his chair, Matt barked back, "Ten-four, Betty. I'm on my way." Nodding goodbye to Chloe, he hurried from the shop, and was pulling away from the curb before Chloe could try to follow him.

Leaving her coffee on the table, she ran out to her car and pulled out, heading in the same direction, muttering to herself, "Estees and crazies. Definitely not a boring town."

. . .

 

"Would you like some more pancakes, Kal?" Martha smiled as she watched the young man finish the last of the food on his plate. When he smiled back wide-eyed and shook his head, she laughed. "I guess I did overdo a little, it's been so long since I cooked for someone with an appetite like David's."

Jonathan snorted. "That boy of ours sure can eat, but he worked it all off. Speaking of which, the cows aren't going to feed themselves." He pushed himself away from the table and stood, leaning over to give Martha a kiss on her cheek. He nodded to Kal-El. "I'll see you later, Kal." Grabbing his hat from a peg by the door, he was gone.

Martha, who'd watched as Jonathan left, turned to her guest. "Guess it's time for that shower and clean clothes." She got up from the table and started walking out of the kitchen. She looked back over her shoulder at Kal-El, who was still seated. "Come on, everything's upstairs."

Kal-El looked between the door that Jonathan had walked through, and the woman who was waiting patiently. He got to his feet and followed Martha to the stairs. As he walked up behind her, he looked at the photos hanging on the wall and stopped at one showing Martha, Jonathan, and a small boy, all three smiling into the camera. He stopped, puzzled and Martha turned to watch him.

Tapping the frame, he looked up at her. "This is you and Jonathan and...who?"

She raised one eyebrow, and answered slowly. "That's David."

Kal-El shook his head. "He is dark. Dark hair, dark skin. Where is his red hair?"

"Red hair? David doesn't have red hair. I mean, it's easy to tell he's adopted, looking at Jonathan and me." She narrowed her eyes and frowned a little. "Are you sure you know...remember David?"

Kal-El turned on the step to look directly at her. "The boy. I brought the boy with the red hair to you and Jonathan. I thought he was your son."

Martha's mouth dropped open slightly as she studied his face. "The day of the meteor shower. That was you?" Kal-El nodded, silent. She raised a hand to his cheek. "We looked for you, but you'd disappeared. We were so worried." The furrow between her eyes eased as she dropped her hand. "But you're all right. You obviously got back to your family okay."

Kal-El nodded again, unwilling to share the reality of his life with the kind woman standing above him. "And the boy?"

She smiled, a little sadly. "His father died that day. We took him to the hospital, and later he went home with his mother."

Kal-El smiled, happy that the boy had found at least part of his family. "I remembered the red hair."

"Unfortunately, he lost all his hair that day. Poor boy." Her face lightened. "We still have your blanket. I'll have to get it out for you!" She turned and walked up the rest of the steps. "Come on. It's in the spare room."

Kal-El followed her eagerly. She opened a trunk at the foot of the bed and moved a few items aside before pulling free a red length of fabric. She handed it to Kal, who accepted it in pleased wonder. Rubbing it between his fingers, he smiled and then looked up. "And my key? Where is it?"

Closing the trunk, Martha sat on it. "Key? What key?"

Kal-El described it. "It has eight sides and is metal." He held out his hand and drew a circle in his palm. "This big?"

Martha thought for a moment. "Yes, I remember it. We sent it back to Alexander after we found it in the truck."

Kal-El blinked in surprise. "Alexander?"

She nodded. "Yes, to the boy you brought to us. Alexander Luthor."

. . .

 

Lois looked back over her shoulder at Jimmy to make sure he was ready to run. As soon as the truck that was backing up cleared the gate, they were going to run alongside it to the open door next to the loading dock. So far, everything their anonymous tipster had told them had been true and Lois expected to meet him inside the building as planned.

After their failure to uncover anything in the interview with Garner, Lois had been discouraged. Another phone call early that morning had been enough to inspire her to try again. The informant had told Lois that the interview had sparked a flurry of activity, including the mass destruction of Cadmus' major product. Refusing to give a name, he promised Lois and Jimmy access to the main facility where they could take pictures to use as evidence. He'd assured them that when they saw what was happening, they'd understand just how big a story it was.

. . .

 

The crowd of workers clustered around the gates of Hamilton Tech milled around aimlessly as the sheriff and his deputies cordoned off the area. Chloe pushed her way through the mass of people, in an attempt to get close enough to see what was happening, her small camera and recorder at the ready. At the inner edge of the crowd, it suddenly became clear what was happening. A dust-covered figure stood in the ruins of the front entrance of the facility, his hands raised above his head as he shouted incoherently. Wheeling around, he brought his fists down and struck the wall next to him, breaking another section of masonry into tiny pieces.

Chloe snapped pictures frantically until she switched the camera's settings for video. The recorder was held up to capture the loud threats that the angry man began to chant repeatedly, "All Luthors are evil and must pay for what they have done! They have polluted Kawatche land long enough and the penalty is death!" Suddenly, the chants stopped and the figure turned around slowly in place, surveying the destruction he'd caused. Pulling a dagger from his belt, he waved it over his head. He shouted, "If the Luthors will not come here to pay their debts, then they will be forced to justice!" Chloe blinked in amazement. He was gone, without a trace.

. . .

"Pete, this is Lex. Hey, I'm on my way to pick up Kal-El at Kyla's place. Can you call me back with directions?" Flipping his phone shut, Lex tossed it on the seat next to him. He frowned at himself; he kept forgetting to have Hank attach a hands-free setup to the Porsche's dash. Glancing at his watch, he estimated he was just few minutes outside of Smallville, and if Pete didn't call him back right away, he'd head for the Kent farm first, to ask about the octagon.

. . .

 

Slamming the phone down hard enough to crack the cradle, Julian swore, "Fuck! Cadmus *and* Hamilton? What the fuck is going on?" Standing, he moved around the desk and headed for his bar, sure that one drink would help him calm down enough to think. His head swung around in shock when his office door crashed open, the handle hanging loose over the splintered lock. The man in the doorway was half-naked, sweat creating runnels through the caked dust that masked his torso. His eyes were wild with an insane light that flared at the sight of Julian. Before Julian could say a word, he was thrown over a hard shoulder, belly down with his ribs compressed, attempting to breathe as the world blurred, and failing.

. . .

 

Leaning against the railing of the bridge, Kal-El stared down at the lazily moving water. He'd declined the Kents' offer of a ride to the bus stop, explaining he preferred to walk in the sun. He'd thanked them for the food and clothing, asking them to keep his blanket for now, and set off to catch the bus to Metropolis, Alexander Luthor's address tucked in his pocket. The feeling of rightness was back, just as it had been at the caves, and he knew that Alexander was the source of that feeling, a warmth deep inside, like the sun on his back. He would be with him soon.

. . .

 

Following their guide, Lois and Jimmy stayed silent, waiting for the story to reveal itself. They climbed a set of stairs and emerged into a brightly-lit corridor overlooking a large area filled with machinery that looked like it had been shut down. To one side, workers were rolling in what looked to be gurneys, and Lois stepped closer to the window to try to make out what was happening. Her jaw dropped when she saw men strapped down, lying quietly in rows along the wall.

As Lois watched, a man dressed in a lab coat approached one of the gurneys with a large syringe containing a green fluid. After the immobilized man's head was moved to one side, the syringe was plunged into his neck, forcing a shocked sound from Lois. Jimmy moved up next to her in time to watch the convulsions that wracked the body on the gurney, restrained limbs jerking until they fell motionless. Returning to a tray at the end of the row, the man in the lab coat picked up another syringe.

Lois turned to their informant. "How do we get down there!"

Shaking his head vigorously, he protested, "You can't! They'll see you!"

Lois shared a look with Jimmy before insisting, "That's the point. I'm not going to stand here and watch people get killed. Get us down there." She leaned forward, menace clear in her voice. "Now."

Nodding, the man pointed to the stairway. "There's a door at the bottom, when you go out, take a right and then go through the double doors."

Lois snorted. "You're not coming with us?"

He backed away and ran down the corridor in the opposite direction. Lois turned to Jimmy, flipped her head toward the stairway, and started running. Pounding down the stairs, Lois pulled out her cell phone, praying for a signal in the depths of the building. Successful, she dialed quickly. They burst out of the door at the base of the stairs and turned right, sprinting to the double doors. Lois chanted, "Pick up, pick up," as they burst through and ran towards the gurneys.

"Stop! You have to stop!" The workers turned at Lois' and Jimmy's shouts.

The lab-coated man holding the syringe looked back over his shoulder, brow furrowed in consternation. He turned, syringe still full and glowing a sickly green. "Who are you people?"

"We're here to stop you from murdering those men!" Jimmy had his camera up and running while Lois stood shouting with her cell phone in her hand. When several of the workers moved in their direction, Lois shook her head. "You don't want to do that." She hit a button on her phone.

"911 operator, what is your emergency?" The workers stopped dead at the sound of the voice coming from the speakerphone.

Lois smiled grimly and shouted, "There's been a murder! Cadmus Labs! Hurry, they're trying to kill us!"

. . .

 

Lex's phone rang just as he passed a crossroads where a large pickup truck was waiting to make a turn. Reaching over, he picked up the phone to answer it. "Pete? Yeah, I forgot to ask before. Kal-El's missing! Fuck! The caves? Sure, I'll meet them there. What? You're kidding! Which idiot judge let Edge out on bail? Hey!" Lex had glanced over to see the pickup edging closer as it attempted to pass. Tapping the brakes, he began to slow to let them go by, only to have them match his speed and come even closer. 'What the fuck!" He dropped the phone to put both hands on the wheel, cutting his eyes between the road ahead and the menace to the side. They were rapidly approaching a bridge and Lex had just decided to execute a one-eighty when the truck dropped back and came up behind him fast, and hit his rear at an angle. Skidding, out-of-control, the car headed for the rail, and Lex looked through the windshield at a startled pair of green eyes as the car thudded over the edge and into the river.

 

. . .

 

The sounds intruded first, thumping screeches that brought Kal-El's head up in surprise. Time changed, flowed at a different speed, the silver-gray car careening toward him in slow-motion, the truck behind it delivering another blow as Kal-El watched, confused. He saw faces, pale and dismayed, against dark with determined anger, following him as the car struck, throwing him backwards, into and through the rail. He felt the rush, flight pursued by a metal hawk, then the fall. Water closed over his head, and the memory of a clear, filled tank rushed in.

Kal-El floated, suspended in the murky water, so different from the clear liquid of his first prison. He'd struggled then, arms and legs battling to keep his head above water, far beyond the point of exhaustion, his brain insisting that he could let himself sink, that he had no need to breathe; it had been proven before, many times. It didn't matter. He still fought, staring into the faces that watched, until he finally reached the end of his strength, and let the water win, again.

Kal-El did not need to breathe. Humans did, and one was trapped in the car beneath him.

It felt strange to Kal-El to swim downward, opposite the past. Peering in through the windows, he could see a body floating, lifeless. The door would not open, so Kal-El made another entrance, and reached inside to pull on the nearest arm. Tucking his prize under one arm, he kicked hard and aimed for the surface. Bursting through to the air, he searched the banks for shelter, understanding the need for concealment. The bridge was close, and pulled the lank body to the shore beneath the nearest strut.

Rolling the body over to lie on its back, Kal-El felt pain spread through his center at the sight of Alexander Luthor's slack-jawed face. Remembering his training, he began to administer CPR, trying to remain calm in the face of inestimable loss. Chest compression, then forcing air through cold lips, again, and again, waiting for a response that grew more unlikely as time passed. Despair began to triumph, yet Kal-El continued, whispering, "Please don't die, Alexander."

Finally, a movement against his lips, a warmth puffed back, a cough. Kal-El sat back on his knees and joyfully watched as color crept back into a pale face. A quick spasm of coughing and dazed blue eyes looked up into his in wonder and relief. "I thought I hit you."

Kal-El smiled at Lex's bewilderment. He nodded happily, "You did, and it didn't hurt me, Alexander Luthor."

Lex shook his head. "Lex, I'm Lex...Kal-El?" There was a shout above them, and Kal-El placed his fingers on Lex's lips, nodding his head before turning his attention to the noises overhead. Lex looked at the man who had pulled him back from death, seeing changes from the frail-looking wraith that had lived in Swann Tower. His hair was shorter with curls released by the water, and his skin had taken on a pale gold tone. He seemed larger, more solid, and a great deal more confident in himself. Moving Kal-El's fingers away from his mouth, Lex whispered, "What is it?"

Kal-El whispered back without looking at him. "The men in the truck that struck your car are looking for us. Listen."

Lex could hear angry voices and made out the words 'drowned', 'Edge', and 'make sure,' none of which made him feel comfortable about their current position. He struggled to sit up, accepting Kal-El's assistance. "We need to get out of here before they come down to look." He grimaced as he realized that his cell phone and gun were out of reach under the water. "If they find us here..."

Kal-El stood and slowly turned in a circle. Stopping with his body turned slightly away from Lex, he cocked his head and then nodded before reaching down to pull Lex to his feet. With no discernable effort, he lifted Lex into his arms, and began to run.

. . .

 

Halting at the entrance to the caves, Kal-El carefully set Lex on his feet, steadying him as he wobbled a little from reaction. Wide blue eyes held Kal-El's, filled with wonder and amazement, until a grin broke free. "God, Kal-El, you're incredible! I couldn't even see anything, you were moving so fast! It was almost like flying."

Kal-El's eyes lit with pleasure. "It's very new to me, and I'm strong again, like before." He looked up into the blue sky. "I think it's the sun, it makes me feel better, like I can do so much more."

Lex frowned, and then nodded. "You're right, it is the sun. I read Swann...your father's notes, Kal-El, I know who you are, that you're not from around here." He sighed and shook his head in disgust. "He kept you away from the sun deliberately, so you wouldn't have the strength to run away." Looking around the area, Lex asked, "Why are we here?"

Kal-El shrugged and pointed to a spot just beneath his sternum. "It's the right place, I feel it here, inside. It's how I came to be here."

Pulling at his wet clothes, Lex frowned. "Well, I guess we can wait for Kyla here, I was supposed to meet her here anyway, because you were missing. Where did you disappear to anyway? I was worried when I heard." Wandering around the entrance, Lex pulled away a tarp, exposing a large metal box with a padlock. "I wonder what's in here. It says Emergency." He fiddled with the lock before turning away, frustrated. "A lot of help that is, locking up the emergency supplies."

A crunch made him turn back. Kal-El held out the mangled padlock. "It broke."

Lex chuckled and opened the box. He pulled out a medical kit and set it to one side, exclaiming in pleasure when he pulled out blankets. "Great, we can out of these wet clothes!" Bottles of water, protein bars and flashlights followed. Handing a flashlight and the blankets to Kal-El, Lex apologized, "I'm sorry to have to do this, but we should wait inside, out of sight. There could be more of Edge's goons looking for you and me. Hopefully, Kyla will show up soon, since we can't very well go to the sheriff's office with you."

Kal-El nodded, and led the way into the cave, telling Lex what had happened. "I was here last night with Kyla and Joseph. I left because I was sad, and then I ran in the rain and the lightning. There was something big that chased me, and I found a barn to sleep in, and Jonathan and Martha fed me breakfast and gave me David's clothes and then I was going to find you!"

Lex grinned at Kal-El's excitement. "You were going to find me?"

Reaching into his pocket, Kal-El pulled out a soggy piece of paper and showed to Lex. "Martha gave me your address."

Stopping in the main chamber, Lex set down their supplies and shook out a blanket, laying it on the rock floor, the chamber surprisingly well-lit by the camp lantern he'd turned on. "Martha. You couldn't possibly mean Martha Kent?"

Kal-El set his flashlight down along with the blankets before nodding. "Yes. Martha Kent and Jonathan and David. I remembered them, and they remembered me." He knelt on one knee to untie his wet athletic shoes. "They had my red blanket and told me that you had my key because it was you that day." He looked up, pensive. "I'm sorry that your hair didn't come back, it was beautiful, so red." He pulled off his shoes.

Lex laughed, passing his hand over his naked head. "It was a long time ago, and I don't really miss it. The color was pretty bright." Toeing his shoes, he began to unbutton his shirt, jacket and tie already discarded, laid out flat to dry. "So, I take it that somehow we met the day you landed? I don't remember it; I don't remember anything before I woke up in the hospital. What happened? A key?" Shirt laid out, he began to unzip his pants before he realized Kal-El wasn't moving. "Kal-El? Are you all right?"

Flannel shirt in his hand, Kal-El was still, frozen in place, breathing fast and shallow. His eyes, dark and wide, seemed to devour Lex, leaving warmth behind as they traveled over his body. Dropping the shirt, he stepped forward, hand outstretched to touch Lex's chest with soft fingertips. "You are beautiful." His eyes rose to Lex's and his hand re-traced the path it had taken in an elevator, not so long ago. "So beautiful, Lex. I've never...I read about..." Blinking, he drew back, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I did not mean..."

Kal-El's withdrawal left Lex empty, a pain burning deep in his gut at the thought of the isolation Kal-El had lived in for so long. He caught Kal-El's hand before he could retreat any further. "It's okay, Kal, I understand. It's all right, you can touch me." He placed Kal-El's hand back on his chest, palm down, stepping into it, its warmth soothing in the chill of the cave. He shivered, gooseflesh rising at the temperature difference. The look of wonder on Kal-El's face made his discomfort worth it. His hand inched across Lex's chest, his lower lip caught between his teeth in his total concentration. Lex sucked in a gasp when a fingertip rubbed over his nipple, causing Kal-El to look up, worried. Lex forced a smile through his arousal. "It feels good, Kal." He held out his own hand. "You're beautiful, too. Can I touch you?"

A blinding grin was his answer, green eyes alight. Kal-El stepped closer, eager for the experience. Lex reached up to run his fingers through slightly damp curls, delighting in the texture. His hands wandered downward, tracing dark brows as Kal-El closed his eyes and hummed, his hands flexing lightly at Lex's waist. The high cheekbones and strong jaw were next, Lex smiling at the roughness of his faint stubble. A fingertip drew down his finely-shaped nose to rest in the indentation above his upper lip. Kal-El's tongue peeked out to moisten his lower lip before it dropped open in a sigh. Lex's breath shortened at sight of bright cheeks burning below the black fans that swept them, Kal-El's eyelids fluttering, but still closed. Cupping Kal-El's face in his hands, he brought it down far enough to allow him to lick across his mouth, catching his gasp with his lips. Drawing back, he waited for Kal-El's eyes to open, needing to see them before he went any further. The complete trust behind Kal-El's arousal hit Lex hard, bringing him back from the edge. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Kal-El's and breathed slowly and steadily in an attempt to bring himself back under control. "Kal, we need to take it slow. This is all new to you. I don't want to take advantage..."

Eyes pained, Kal-El sighed and tried to move away. "I'm sorry, Lex. I shouldn't have..."

Lex tightened his hands on Kal-El's face and kept him close, placing quick kiss on his lips. "No, Kal, there's nothing to be sorry about. I like it. I like it a lot. It feels right, like nothing else ever has. But you said you'd never done anything like this before, and I want it to be the right time, the right person for you." Lex searched Kal-El's eyes for understanding. "You're important to me. I've only known you a few hours, but it feels like forever. I don't understand it, but I don't want to lose it by moving too fast."

The pain in Kal-El's began to fade at Lex's words and he nodded slowly. "You are the right person, Lex, but I will wait. I felt it when I saw you, when I touched you in the tower, but I didn't understand until I thought you would die, there by the river. If you had, I think I would have died then too. It just feels right that we are together finally." He smiled sadly. "Right before you hit me, I was thinking of you, how much I wanted to see you before I died. I'm sorry, but I don't have many days left."

"What?" Lex jerked back, startled at Kal-El's statement, then he relaxed. "Oh. That's something else I found out, Kal-El, I should have told you sooner. You're fine, nothing is wrong with you. They lied to you about the blood." Lex shook his head frowning. "There are other things we need to talk about, what they did with your blood. It isn't right, and I'm going to do everything I can to fix it." Lex kissed him gently, a light touch of lips. "When I was dead, I flew. I saw the countryside, the river, and even these caves. I was looking for something, and then I saw you and I knew where I needed to be. Then I woke up, and you were there." Lex's hands dropped to Kal-El's shoulders. "We have a destiny, you and I, and we have time." He shivered. "Now let's finish getting out of these wet clothes and under some blankets."

Lex stepped back and turned around to unzip his pants, trying to conceal his erection from Kal-El and give himself that time he'd spoken of so earnestly. Wrapping a blanket around himself, he picked up his pants, shaking them out. A clink caught his attention and he looked down to find the octagon on the rock floor where it had fallen. A gasp came from behind him. He reached down to pick it up, but Kal-El's hand was there first. Straightening up, he looked at Kal-El in surprise as he grinned in delight, almost dancing in place.

"It's my key!"

. . .

 

Listening to Lex's voicemail message again, Pete frowned. The noise he'd heard on the other end of the line, before it went dead, had him worried, and he debated on whether to notify the local sheriff since it was going to take at least another two hours for him to get to Smallville. Only the knowledge that Lex trusted him not to involve anyone else until he'd had a chance to find Kal-El, and make sure that he was safe, kept Pete from making that call. He'd asked Kyla to keep an eye out for both of them, and told her that Lex was going to meet her at the caves. He could only hope Lex made it there safely. Setting his jaw, he pressed a little harder on the accelerator, deciding he could make that an hour and a half.

. . .

 

Kyla turned from the news program that her grandfather had called her in to watch. "That was Jeremiah at Hamilton Tech!"

Joseph nodded solemnly. "I'm afraid it could also be him who's responsible for Julian Luthor's disappearance. Who else would have the strength and speed to take him from his office without being seen?"

Heading for the door, Kyla agreed, "If it is, then Luthor's in real danger. I'm afraid Jeremiah's not rational when it comes to him." Looking back over her shoulder, she urged, "We need to hurry and meet his brother at the caves, if he's there. Pete was worried that something may have happened. Maybe Kal's come back, too."

Joseph grunted and followed her out the door.

. . .

 

Looking up from the metal piece Kal-El held out to him, Lex suddenly found it very difficult to breathe. The blanket Kal-El had been using lay discarded on the floor, and it was apparent he'd undressed much more quickly than Lex. Nothing shielded him from Lex's gaze except his innocent joy. Hugging his own blanket closer, in an attempt to conceal his immediate response to the smooth, clean lines of bone and muscle standing in front of him, Lex bent to retrieve Kal-El's blanket from the floor. As he straightened up, he turned his head and was confronted with the proof that Kal-El was an extremely male alien, with no discernible differences from a human. Swallowing hard, Lex closed his eyes and finished the movement, finally opening them to see Kal-El walking away from him to the wall, presenting Lex with yet another heart-stopping view. Licking his suddenly dry lips, Lex followed him, blanket in hand, glad he'd kept his boxers on, even though they were damp and chafing.

At the wall, Kal-El stood looking at an indentation, holding up the octagon to compare. Lex gasped when the metal piece rose into the air, adjusted itself and then flew into the wall, sealing itself in, seamlessly. A loud humming began, and the colored symbols around the octagon began to rotate counter-clockwise, spinning faster at each rotation. Kal-El stepped back to stand next to Lex, who dropped both blankets to grasp Kal-El's shaking hand and pull him away from the wall. They had only retreated a step when a blinding white light enveloped both of them, and the rest of the world disappeared.

. . .

 

In the center of a silent crystalline structure, sharp-edged, glittering with an internal light, two bodies meet, hands joined, face-to-face. No difference, identical in every detail, they mirror each other until they begin to change, feature by feature, sharing the past, building a future. Blue eyes hold flame and fear, determination and triumph; green reflect pain and loss, hope always rising over despair. Skin pales after fire, flesh glows new from the sun, one head dark, with heavy curls, while the other gleams, unadorned, held high. Finely-wrought bone layered with lean muscle stands proud before a breadth and strength constrained by gentle caring.

Shimmering passion rises as lips meet, sharing words unknown to any other, fullness over firm, a scar licked, a tongue met. No space between what once was the same, now separate, different yet bound together, gliding movement grows urgent, cries shared and swallowed to burn within. To reach the end is to find the beginning, a circle unbroken, completed. Heat rises, an inferno burning away all pretenses, all barriers until there is nothing but the two, and the light.

. . .

 

Sound came crashing on Lex, his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, breathing short and labored. He blinked away tears from staring into the uncovered lantern. As he became aware of his surroundings, he realized he was atop Kal-El, both of them stretched out on the rocky floor. He felt a damp warmth between them, a slickness, and the heaviness weighing between his legs left little doubt of the source. Kal-El's heartbeat thudded beneath him and he looked up into dazed green eyes that blinked lazily at him, a sated smile playing over reddened lips. Bewildered, rising to his elbows, Lex looked at the wall above Kal-El's head to see a pictograph, a two-headed figure staring down at them. He looked back down at Kal-El, still stunned.

A sound behind them brought Lex out of his confusion, a glance over his shoulders sending him scrambling for a nearby blanket. He wrapped it around his waist quickly, as he stood in front of Kal-El to shield him from Kyla's and Joseph's curious gazes. Bending down, he picked up the other blanket and handed it to Kal-El, who'd risen to his feet behind Lex.

Kyla spoke first. "What was that? You were both...it was as if you weren't really here, not entirely, like you were someplace else inside that light that was around you."

Joseph held up a hand to stop her. "Numan and Segeth. It was the legend coming to life."

Lex felt Kal-El shift behind him with a sharp sound of protest. His warm hands came down firmly on Lex's bare shoulders. "Lex is not my enemy. I'm not his."

Joseph looked between and nodded slowly. "It is too soon to say." He frowned. "Inspector Luthor, your brother Julian has been taken and we think it was Jeremiah Holdsclaw. He is dangerous right now, and he holds the Luthors responsible for damage to the environment around here."

Lex began gathering his clothes and putting them on as he asked questions. "What else can you tell me?" He saw Kal-El casually getting dressed out of the corner of his eye, unconcerned with his nudity, wiping his belly clean with the blanket first.

"He has the Starblade, and I'm afraid he intends to use it on your brother." Joseph's face was grim.

Kal-El spoke up as he tied his athletic shoes. "The Palac? Where did he find it?" He stood up and moved next to Lex, who unconsciously leaned into his warmth.

Kyla laughed. "You were here, Kal, when he found it, remember? It was in that hole in the wall."

Kal-El shook his head. "I didn't see it. I walked away when I knew that I needed my key, and you were all arguing too much to see me go."

"Then how do you know about the Palac?" Joseph's voice was puzzled.

Kal-El walked to the wall and held up his hand. The octagon left the wall and flew to him. Catching it, he turned back to them. "My father told us, Lex and me. He told us about many things. It will just take time for them to have meaning." He walked back to Lex and stood looking into his eyes. Lex felt something inside that told him Kal-El was telling the truth, and he could feel Kal-El's pleasure curling at the back of his mind at Lex's unspoken thought.

Without looking away from Kal-El, Lex asked, "Where do you think this Jeremiah is now?"

Joseph thought for a moment. "If he wants to try to perform the ritual of cleansing, then he is at the place of slumbering. We can take you there. It's not too far from here. But shouldn't we call the sheriff?"

Kal-El shook his head slowly, still staring into Lex's eyes. "I can use the key to find the Palac. Lex and I will go now, and you can follow."

Lex agreed. "Please call the police for us. Kal's right, we shouldn't waste any more time." With an effort, he tore his eyes away from Kal-El's and turned to Joseph. "Do you have a gun I can use?"

"Sorry, no guns." Kyla shook her head.

Kal-El looked at her and shrugged, "I can take Lex's brother away from Jeremiah without a gun."

Joseph warned, "He is as fast and as strong as you are, Numan, as long as he has the Starblade."

Kal-El turned back to Lex and picked him up in his arms. "I have to try." He lowered his head and his hard, fast kiss seared Lex's lips. "He is Lex's brother and I have to try." Holding Lex's head close to his shoulder, Kal-El blurred and was gone.

. . .

 

Kal-El blurred to halt at the edge of a clearing, deep in the forest located in the center of the Kawatche lands. He set Lex down carefully and began to look around. It didn't take long for him to spot Jeremiah at the other side, carrying a pile of dead branches. As they watched, Jeremiah tossed the wood onto a large pile. He looked up to see Kal-El and Lex, and blurred to stand in front of them, arms crossed and legs planted apart. "Why are you here?"

Kal-El looked around Jeremiah and pointed to the large flat rock next to the pile of branches. A man was lying on the rock, his arms and legs outstretched and tied to stakes. "We're here for him."

Jeremiah sneered. "He must die for his wrongs, the earth must be cleansed." When Kal-El moved to go around him, he blurred back in front of him. "I am Numan, I have the strength of ten men and can throw fire from my eyes. You won't stop me, no one can." He looked over his shoulder and the wood pile caught fire, causing Julian to cry out.

"You can say you are Numan, but you didn't fall from the sky." Kal-El stepped forward again. "You must stop this."

Jeremiah thrust his arm, sending Kal-El reeling back. "Did you think I was so caught up in the past that I don't watch the news? I intend to destroy all of the Luthors, even the false ones, 'Clark Luthor' or whoever you are," he spat. He reached out for Lex only to find Kal-El in his way.

"Lex, go to Julian." Kal-El stood ready to stop Jeremiah as Lex started across the clearing. When Jeremiah blurred, Kal-El was there first and Jeremiah shouted wordlessly in frustration. His fist came down on Kal-El's shoulder and Kal-El rocked under the blow, but did not retreat. He continued to interpose himself between Jeremiah and the two brothers.

Lex ran to the rock and knelt to untie his brother's bonds. Julian, face bloodied and clothes torn, looked up at him in surprise. "Lex, what..."

Lex shook his head, busy trying to undo the tightly knotted sinew. He thought longingly of the pocketknife he carried on his keychain, now underwater. "Let me just get you loose, Julian. We'll talk about why you tried to have me killed, later." The first knot slipped free, but the next proved more difficult. "Fuck!" He could hear the fighting behind him, but knew he needed to concentrate on freeing Julian before he could try to help Kal-El. "I suppose it shouldn't surprise me, considering how easy you found it to create and own other lives."

Julian looked up at Lex and sneered, "You have no idea what you've done, all the work you've destroyed with your investigation. You've cost me millions."

Lex's hand stilled on the knots and he stared at his younger brother. "They're people, Julian. Not something to be bought and sold!"

Julian spat, "They're not human!" He struggled uselessly. "Why didn't you just stay in your little world and leave mine alone? You never wanted it, it's mine, I earned it! I was never anything but second-best to her, but I still ended up with all of it, dearest brother. I wasn't going to let you take it away just because of a bunch of meteor freaks."

Lex shrugged, refusing to look at Julian. "I'm a meteor freak, Julian." The sounds of the struggle had grown louder, and Lex looked around to see Kal-El across the clearing, wrestling with Jeremiah, clothing torn and burnt. Worried, he redoubled his efforts to free his unrepentant brother.

"That's one of them, isn't it?" Julian had stopped moving, realizing it was only tightening the knots even more. "Where did you get it?" His eyes narrowed at the concern in Lex's face. "You're actually worried about it. Was it a good fuck? Is it actually smart enough to even know your name?"

Furious, Lex finished the last knot on the first, and was reaching for the second, when he heard a choked shout and a bolt of pain seared across his brain, jolted his gut. He fell back and looked over to see Kal-El, transfixed by the knife Jeremiah had plunged into his chest. As he watched, Jeremiah pulled the knife and held above his head in triumph as Kal-El staggered back and dropped to his knees, then to the ground. Lex cried out in horror, scrambling to his feet and abandoning Julian to run to Kal-El's side.

Julian reached to untie his other hand, cursing the fact that Lex had freed his left hand first, forgetting that Julian was right-handed. His numbed fingers fumbled at the knots as he frantically worked to free himself. Julian felt, rather than saw, the shadow that fell over him, and stilled as he looked up into the eyes of his executioner.

Lex fell to his knees next to Kal-El who lay still, barely breathing as the ground soaked up the blood that pumped too quickly from his chest. Lex tore open Kal-El's shirt and pressed down with both hands in a futile attempt to stem the flood, his breath sobbing between his lips. He saw Kal-El try to speak, the brilliance in his green eyes dimming as Lex watched helplessly. A bubble of blood broke between his lips, sliding down his jaw, and Lex sensed the connection between them weakening. "No, Kal, please. You have to stay with me." Lex felt the surge of blood beneath his hands slow, and then stop as the final light left Kal-El's eyes. Raising his dripping hands, Lex threw back his head and screamed, the pain from the empty place inside, tearing him apart.

The scream was echoed behind him as Jeremiah, who had just thrust the Starblade into Julian's heart, convulsed, and tore at his own chest. He fell back, lifeless, eyes staring up empty at the uncaring sky.

Bent over Kal-El, tears running unchecked down his cheeks, Lex touched his tranquil face with shaking hands, leaving trails of blood behind. He kissed bloody lips, whispering an unheard prayer. He fell forward over Kal-El's body, keening, broken, his hands over the stilled heart. Lex lay there a few moments before a surge of rage swept through him. He sat up and declared, "No." Pressed down with both his hands, every muscle in his body straining, his teeth clenched, and jaw set. "No." Stared down at Kal-El, his eyes burning, "No, it's not over."

His determination swelled, spilled over and heat mounted under his hands. A golden light flared between them and Lex shouted his defiance, "No!" He felt it, a jolt beneath his palms, then another, and again until they were steady, strong. A gasp, and the chest that had been so still rose and fell with life. Lex stared into Kal-El's face and watched the beauty return to his eyes, and the void inside him filled with joy.

Kal-El looked up and smiled briefly, then struggled to sit up. "Lex, Jeremiah..." He tried to stand, to protect Lex from a danger that no longer existed. Pressing Kal-El back, telling him to rest, Lex surged to his feet and hurried back to Julian, ignoring Jeremiah's body, failing to notice Kyla and Joseph standing at the edge of the clearing.

Reaching Julian, he groaned. It was instantly apparent that it was too late. He reached for the knife standing in his brother's chest, and watched it crumble and disappear. He stood in there in shock as Kyla and Joseph approached, Kal-El following slowly.

Lex stiffened at Joseph's words. "The legend claimed that the Starblade would disappear when Segeth, Numan's enemy, tried to possess it."

Kal-El pushed past Kyla to stand next to Lex. "Lex is not my enemy!"

Joseph looked at the angry man and nodded. "I agree. We saw what happened. He brought you back." Joseph reached out and patted Lex's shoulder. "I believe there is another interpretation that can be made. The legend speaks of a balance. Numan has such strength that Segeth is needed to keep Numan from the temptation to take over the world."

Kal-El looked down at Lex and then back at Joseph. "Lex and I belong together. If that means we are Numan and Segeth...." He shrugged. "We will never be enemies."

Kyla, who had been watching and listening, pushed up her sleeve and took off her cuff. Reaching for Kal-El, she placed it in his hand. He stared at it then looked up with a blinding smile. He took Lex's left hand and carefully placed the cuff on his wrist. Puzzled, Lex examined it and looked up. "Kal?"

Kyla answered. "For Numan's beloved."

While this was going on, Joseph had pulled out a knife and taking it to Jeremiah's body, wiped the handle clean, then wrapped Jeremiah's hand around. Carrying it carefully, he came back to Julian's body. "Your brother is dead, the murderer is lying there, and there is no weapon." Lex frowned and nodded. Joseph leaned over and plunged the knife into Julian's chest, replacing the missing Starblade. "It is done. The sheriff is on his way and you two must be gone. Kyla and I will stay as witnesses."

Lex closed his eyes and his shoulders slumped as the full import of what had happened began to penetrate. Kal-El, feeling his distress, gathered Lex into his arms gently, nodded his thanks, and blurred them away.

. . .

 

The long ride back to Metropolis had been silent except for the occasional question from Pete. He'd been waiting at the caves when Kal-El and Lex arrived, surprised when they emerged from inside. Kal-El had moved past so quickly that Pete assumed they'd been there all along, and that he'd been careless not to check inside for them. What Pete could never know was that Lex and Kal had returned to the mansion long enough to find clean clothes and change, both of them being covered in Kal-El's blood. A phone call from Kyla had then placed Pete in the difficult position of having to tell Lex his brother had been murdered. Lex regretted the deception, but he couldn't ask Pete to compromise himself in order to protect Kal-El from further scrutiny for as long as possible. Pete knew Kal-El was the young man who had lived with Virgil Swann, and that he'd done nothing illegal. That was all that was important for now.

While Kal-El had slept in the back seat, exhausted from the fight, and the trip to and from Metropolis, Lex had been doing a lot of thinking. He knew that keeping Kal-El's origins a secret would be difficult, maybe impossible. They had a few advantages; the existence of others that looked like Kal-El, the cloning records at Cadmus Labs, and the known mutant phenomenon around Smallville that could provide the reason for their existence. The number of people knowing the truth was small due to Swann's actions, and Lex could be thankful for that, despite the loss of human life. Based on what Julian had said before he died, Edge had kept his information on Kal-El to himself, and the most that could be determined for now was that someone called Kal-El had resided with Virgil Swann, and provided blood for processing. Lex would need to make sure, but it seemed that Kal-El didn't exist in any legal records. He was a phantom.

He could be anyone he wanted to be.

When Pete had dropped them both off at the mansion, Lex had thanked him and assured him that the LuthorCorp helicopter would take them back out to Smallville, when the coroner released Julian's body. There were enough witnesses to Jeremiah's threats, including Chloe Sullivan's photos and recordings, that the case should be wrapped up quickly. There was no reason for anyone to suspect that the knife found in Julian's chest wasn't the murder weapon, and there had been two witnesses. Cut and dried.

Alarm bypassed and reset, house keys discarded by the door, Lex rubbed his face wearily and decided food was less important than a shower and sleep. Still, attempting to be a proper host, he pointed out the kitchen to Kal-El and told him to eat whatever and whenever he liked. Climbing the stairs slowly in the dark, Lex felt the day's events dragging him down, making each step an effort. He knew Kal-El still followed him, a faithful shadow whose presence warmed Lex in the cold silence, warding off ghosts. He conducted Kal-El to one of the guest bedrooms and showed him the bathroom, supplied with toiletries, and then told him that he would bring Kal-El something to sleep in and would see him in the morning. Kal-El looked at him and nodded, still mute, the last words he'd spoken his simple 'thank you' to Pete. He began to undress and Lex left the room quickly, ostensibly in search of the offered clothing.

It took less than a minute for Lex to find and pull out a pair of sweats that would fit Kal-El, although possibly short in the leg. Placing them on a chair to take to Kal-El later, Lex pulled off his own sweat-stained, crumpled clothes, dropping them carelessly on the floor next to the bloody, torn clothes they had changed from earlier. A few steps and he stood in his too-brightly lit bathroom, blinking owlishly before stumbling into the large walk-in shower, and standing beneath the stinging needle spray. As the heat melted into his muscles, he began to sag, sliding down the tiled wall until he collapsed with his head back and legs out straight in front of him. Eyes closed, he could pretend that the burning slide of tears was simply the water beating down relentlessly on his upturned face. His brother's face haunted him; the blond-curled, blue-eyed imp that chased after him along the halls of the mansion, the earnest teenager who wanted to be like his older brother, the bitter sneering man that admitted to ordering Lex's death. He'd failed. His brother had died and he'd let it happen.

The hands that cradled his face were welcome after the initial shock. Deep in his mourning, Lex hadn't heard the shower door open, or felt Kal-El kneel down next him. Squinting through the pounding spray, Lex could see Kal-El's concerned green eyes coming closer until warm lips met his briefly, before he was pulled into a broad, comforting chest. No words, just his presence, gently rocking, hand sweeping along his spine in long strokes that pulled Lex's grief out and let it wash away. Lex thought of how he'd left his brother, still bound to the rock where he would die, to go to a dying Kal-El. He thought of alien blood spilled trying to save a man who would see it as nothing but loss of profit. He thought of a world without the miracle that was Kal-El, and he could not, would never regret the choice he'd made.

Kal-El, feeling Lex's emotional storm pass, stood, bringing Lex up with him. Lathering up with the spicy-scented soap Lex preferred, Kal-El smoothed his hands over Lex's body, caressing him as he cleaned away all that had happened. Dank river water, sweat and blood were bathed away carefully, every inch of Lex's skin left clean and shining. Kal-El encouraged him to step out of the shower and dry off while Kal-El blurred in, out and back in, finally emerging just as clean after retrieving shampoo from the other bathroom. He helped Lex finish drying off and then they both returned to the bedroom, dry towels wrapped around their waists.

Pushing Lex gently to sit on the bed, Kal-El brought him a tall glass of orange juice. He'd obviously found the time to visit the kitchen, and had brought up the juice, as well as fresh bread and cheese. Lex was thankful that his housekeeper kept the refrigerator and pantry stocked, even though he was notorious for not eating, at least Kal-El wouldn't go hungry.

Kal-El felt a little differently. Handing Lex some bread, Kal-El pointed to the untouched glass of juice. "You need to eat and drink something, Lex." Looking up into worried eyes, Lex felt something inside him clench before releasing, something deep that thrived in solitude but withered in the warmth of Kal-El's care. Dipping his head in acquiescence, Lex drank half the juice, took a bite of the bread and smiled up at Kal-El. He received a pleased grin in return and Kal-El retrieved his own glass and the plate of bread and cheese, setting it down between them as he sat on the bed.

Finishing the impromptu snack in a comfortable silence, Lex found himself yawning with an apologetic smile. Kal-El stood, and carried the plate and glasses out of the room without a word. Lex wondered whether he was going to return, a little disturbed by the thought that he might be going back to the guest room. Shaking his head at his uncharacteristic neediness, Lex returned to his bathroom to brush his teeth. Walking back out a few minutes later, he couldn't help the leap of pleasure he felt at the sight of Kal-El lying on his bed, the bedcovers pulled down to the end. Towel discarded, he was on his side, facing the bathroom door, head propped on his hand, golden perfection on display.

Walking to the bed, Lex sat on the edge, arranging his towel to hide his response to the sensual offering in his bed. Summoning his resolve, he smiled gently. "Kal, you don't have to sleep here if you don't wish to, I don't expect anything from you after such a short time, after what my family did. You should have a chance to meet other people, see more of the world, and decide what you want to do with the rest of your life. I'll make sure you have..." Lex found himself minus the towel and flat on his back in the middle of the bed, "...money." Soft fingers on his lips prevented any further words of expiation.

Kal-El curved protectively over Lex, green eyes serene. "I'm no longer the one who lived in a tower without hope, seeing only the end. My father has shone me much. We shared that, you and I. There is so much to see in this world, to touch, to taste, but nothing more important to me than this, you. The you that is inside here..." Kal-El's hand cradled Lex's skull, lifting him to his lips, once, twice a kiss. "...and here..." Laying Lex back down gently, his hand moved to cover Lex's heart as another kiss descended. Kal-El's lips curved in a smile against Lex's and he murmured, "...and here." His hand slid from Lex's chest, lightly smoothing a line downward ending with gentle squeeze that caused a hard jerk. Lex moaned against the smile and the kiss grew heated. Kal-El drew back and gazed steadily into Lex's eyes. "We are meant to be together, Lex. Can you truly tell me you don't feel it, too?"

Lex could sense Kal-El in the back of his mind, a mild push, as if seeking permission. He'd felt him there, unobtrusive, but still *there* since the time in the light, and he wondered if that was what Kal-El felt, too. When he'd lost that feeling, back in the clearing when Kal-El had left him behind, Lex had fought to get it back, battled Death to wrest Kal-El from its grasp, because the thought of never having that sense of belonging again, of being alone again, of losing the one he'd wished for all his life, wasn't to be borne. Another soft nudge, inside and out, and Lex let himself open and welcome Kal-El in.

There were no words in their silent sharing, but a *knowing* that spread, memories and dreams, fears and desires. Past hurts were soothed and futures explored; neither dominating nor submitting, equals. Their mental landscapes extended into the physical, all senses enhanced. Fingers memorized each dip and hollow, tongues and lips following to take their own sweet accounting. Hair-roughened flesh moved against silken smooth, slowly, so slowly, extracting moans at tender junctures. Hands stroked hard heat as breath was shared, until there was none to be had, at the peak, straining, together, always together, until the final fall. Even then, soothing each other's trembling muscles, they did not part, entwined, inseparable even in sleep.

. . .

 

It had been a private service and everyone had left after murmuring polite phrases. Lex stood alone in front of the three monuments in the Luthor plot and thought about being the last in the line. There had been difficult decisions to make and more to come as he made his way through the financial maze of LuthorCorp and it wasn't clear yet whether it would survive. His career in the FBI was over, relegated to the past as he took his place at the head of the corporation.

Kal-El was safe for now, with a new identity he'd selected after asking what the 'J' stood for in Lex's name. With Morgan Edge and Garner missing, Lex's new bodyguard never left his side. He was tall and broad-shouldered, in suits that accentuated his size and golden skin, with severely-cut black hair that tended to curl, and brown eyes rarely seen behind his sunglasses. He carried himself proudly, with his security clearance prominently displayed, the name 'Josephs, Kal L.' visible to all. He'd accompanied Lex to Cadmus Labs where arrangements were being made to comfortably house and care for the clones, while every attempt would be made to extend their lifespans. Cloning was not illegal, and neither was the sale and use of non-humans, but the moral and ethical questions left LuthorCorp in very tenuous circumstances when it came to public opinion. Lex intended to make sure there would be no further cause for censure.

Lex knew he'd let himself be blind to his mother's activities, remain oblivious to her involvement with Swann and Edge. Her influence and conditioning had instilled Julian with the drive to continue and expand on the sickening commerce. Thankfully, he'd woken up in time to stop Julian before he'd destroyed either Kal-El's mind or Kal-El's faith in humanity and his capacity to forgive. The thought of Kal-El's power, driven by hatred and revenge, caused a tremor to run through Lex's body. It rang too close to the legend of Numan and Segeth to be dismissed.

Holding his gold watch in his hand, remembering his mother, Lex knew he would never be able to look at it again without seeing those faces in the files, and the horrifying statistics. He read the elegant engraving on the back, 'Always with you, my son' and he shuddered at the thought that he would always carry her genetic legacy, even if he refused to carry on the evil she'd fostered.

The cuff he proudly wore every day proclaimed his new allegiance.

Closing his eyes, Lex sighed, and then opened them to the sympathetic face of his beloved, standing a few yards away. His shoulders straightened and his head rose proudly. He'd accepted the burden, and he would cleanse his blood-spattered inheritance. Carefully placing the watch on the polished headstone, he walked away with Kal-El, never looking back.

**Author's Note:**

> After guessing which two stories I wrote for harlequin_sv in a poll,roxymissrose wrote: wait--wait! I won a prize!! Anything that grabs you, but please, nice and SF flavored if you can?


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